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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29026272">Second Life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/about2dance/pseuds/about2dance'>about2dance</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, M/M, My First Fanfic, Slowest of burns.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:35:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>68,659</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29026272</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/about2dance/pseuds/about2dance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>So many people talk about reincarnation. Serve others well, your next life will be blessed. Act like an idiot and your next life will suffer. </p><p>In your next life you may be born in a different country, in a different time, speak a different language, meet different people.  In your next life you won’t remember this one. </p><p>What if we were wrong. What if we remember everything. What if we were limiting ourselves. What if it’s not just another country, but another world.</p><p>AKA: How Lavellan really met Solas back in Arlathan, why she doesn't remember, and why he can't let it go.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Felassan (Dragon Age)/Original Character(s), Female Lavellan &amp; Solas (Dragon Age), Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan, Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), OC/Fen'harel, OC/OC, Solas/OC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ok, so this is my very first attempt at a fan fic, at an anything fic really. So please be kind. Also comments and feedback are welcome. I'd like to improve at this. I have an idea where I want this to go but it's really long and involved (like possibly insanely long and involved).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>CHAPTER 1: A Second Life</p><p> </p><p>An'da was living her second life, she remembered everything about her first. She had been a female then. She had lived in a place called North America. A place where it snowed in winter and sweltered in the summers. She remembered always wanting to explore. She remembered travelling. All the new cultures and languages she heard in her time. She remembered the thrill of new discovery every time she stepped off a plane. The excitement of sitting in departure lounges. The wonder of wandering a new city. Cities where ancient ruins were built up right next to brand new convenience stores. Cities that could hardly be called such, because they were so small. Wild places with only a few cabins, and scenery that stole her breath.</p><p>She remembered parenting came next. A surprise that changed everything. A man who had been caring turned dark and how suddenly doing everything alone wasn’t so great anymore. She remembered the dark days and the anxious ones. She remembered the bright laughter of her baby son, the overwhelming feeling that she was doing everything wrong and everyone knew it. She remembered slowly, slowly, coming out of it, reconnecting with friends making a new home in an unlikely place. She remembered how the wanderlust never really left. She remembered how the need to explore never really left.</p><p>She remembered channeling that into teaching and writing. Channeling her curiosity and sharing it with young ones, had made her heart happy. Their moments of discovery brought new bright spots of joy in her world. She remembered working, slowly, slowly towards travel again. Working in the wee hours of the morning, teaching during the day, playing with her son at night. It had been exhausting, but it had fulfilled her, or most of her.</p><p>She didn’t remember the end. Though she considered that, that might be a mercy.</p><p>Here in the second life, she was in a sort of in-between place. A strange place full of spirits and thoughts coalescing into separate entities, acting out forgotten moments, mimicking the experiences of the living, sharing a moment, and then dissipating into the mist.</p><p>Here, in the second life, things were different. Here she was herself, but more herself, and also not quite all of herself. She had no body to speak of, that part was gone. She did not miss it. She remembered the body had become unreliable and more of a nuisance as time went by. She considered the loss of it another mercy.</p><p> </p><p>Here she could explore. Here there was almost no end to what she could learn and absorb. It seemed all information was readily at her fingertips. All it took was a thought, a whim, and she was speeding off towards undiscovered places and seeing them through others’ eyes.</p><p>She knew that she had been here for some time, and that time did not mean the same thing here. She thought it had been a long time, but how long was unknown. At some point it had occurred to her that while she could find any information, any experience she wished. She had no way to experience it first hand. Here she could share a memory, but not create a new one. Here she could find every piece of information at a whim, and yet, something about the search... Something was missing in pure thought, something tactile, something the body had been very good at. It was that missing something that led her to find a way out of the in-between place.</p><p>Once she made up her mind to leave there were so many questions! How could she do it? If she could, where might there be a need for her skills and interests? Who most needed or wanted to share new experiences and knowledge? Where could she explore the longest? Where could she find beauty, poetry, art, and music? There were so many lovely questions, that she may have spent an age simply exploring them.</p><p>During that time, she learned of others who had moved out of the in-between place. They had decided to take physical form again. There were many worlds in which to do it, many methods, and many forms to be taken. Some forms were fast, fleeting lives, others moving at a glacial pace, some with similar forms to her past experience, others so wholly alien she could not describe them in speech or within the confines of time and three dimensions.</p><p>In the end she chose a form similar to her previous one, believing that it would lead to the most comfortable transition, two arms, two legs, tall and upright. She appreciated their art, the blending of the natural and the created that had so eluded the people of her previous world. These beings were more slender and graceful than her people had been, with wider eyes and pointed ears. While these beings were beautiful, and she did love beauty, that was not her main reason for choosing the form. This form would live indefinitely and could access the in-between place! She could have the best of both worlds, the physical creation of new experience and access to the in-between place!</p><p>When all her decisions were made she approached these forms and began to learn about their world. She explained to them that she’d quite like a body, and they were happy to accommodate. A female form was found for her. It had long silvery white hair, thick and wavy. It had pale skin, and clear light grey eyes framed by thick dark lashes. It had long slender limbs that were toned and looked strong. It looked young. It seemed strange to her to be entering a new world as a young adult and not an infant. It also seemed strange to be entering a body that looked so young, since she was centuries old by now. Still young to these beings, but old by her previous world’s estimations. Still, she would take this form happily. It looked fit and capable.</p><p>The day she took her form there were many in attendance. Some of her oldest friends, Knowledge, Compassion, Wisdom, and Creativity were present. There were also many of the new forms present. Elves they called themselves. There were many who were excited to see a new spirit take form and others who had done so in the past and were there to help her ease through the transition. She was grateful for them all.</p><p>The transition was difficult for the first few months, years if she was being honest. Bodies move differently than spirits and in the century or more since she’d had one she’d forgotten some of the mechanics. Also, her last form had been relatively uncoordinated, tripping over things that weren’t there. This one was much more responsive. Running was faster, for instance (once she stopped tripping over the length of her new legs).</p><p>Eating felt strange after centuries of not doing so, and she had forgotten just how much time one spends caring for one’s body. Clothing it, cleaning it, feeding it, exercising it, taking care of its waste. All necessary steps, which slowed her in reaching her ultimate goal. This frustrated her, which led to new problems.</p><p>There was magic in this world. Something her first world had not had. She could use her will and her emotions to create new things, to direct energies, to heal, and to harm. Unfortunately at first, due to her lack of control, it was largely to harm.</p><p>There was the day she forgot to feed her new body, became so dizzy that she stumbled and fell into a fountain. The fountain was waist deep and she was soaked to the skin instantly. When she finally found her footing and stood, the eyes of all the startled, graceful, and composed elvhen staring at her was so embarrassing that she felt heat rush to her cheeks in a furious blush. This new form also blushed much more obviously, which only added to her mounting embarrassment. When the first of the elvhen chuckled, (and why wouldn’t they, she must have looked ridiculous) her frustration bubbled over and rushed out of her in the form of flames that leapt out of her skin. Only increasing her mortification as her clothing was reduced to singed scraps.</p><p>Luckily for her newly embodied spirits were assigned to mentors to help them through the process. Her mentor was formerly a spirit of kindness. Which was ideal, because after that experience she had needed a great deal of kindness and coaxing before she would go out in public again.</p><p>As a spirit born elf she was able to choose her own name. She chose An’da Eolasa, because all understanding comes from that small place where you are still and listen.</p><p>An’da learned a great deal from her mentor and spent her first decade becoming accustomed to the language, culture, and social norms of this new world. She learned to control her emotions better and how to share them, as emotions here had a physical component. They could stretch beyond the individual, reach out to others, and telegraph her feelings when she wanted to keep them private. She learned how to use magic and how not to use magic. She learned the stories and some of the history of this world. Over time she began to feel more at home in this place and she began to forget parts of her first world.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Experiment Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An'da has settled in. She's found a purpose and a quiet life... That all changes in an instant.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Every morning, as the sun rose a ray of light filtered through the canopy of trees outside her window and worked its way across her floor and to her bed. She knew it was time to rise when the light reached her eyes on the pillow. Friends who had stayed with her told her how to craft curtains, as if she didn’t know. They mentioned spells that would help the tree grow to cover the break in the canopy, again, as if she didn’t understand a basic growth spell. They cast spells to darken the window at dawn when they thought she wasn’t looking. She dispelled the charms. She liked the ray of sunlight. It was like a friend. It reminded her that she couldn’t spend all her time dreaming and that there were things that had to be done. </p><p>When the sunlight met her eyes, she would rise and eat, clean herself, clothe herself and head out into the city. She lived on the outskirts of Arlathan. Her tree was smallish by Arlathanian standards, it only held seven rooms. Hers was nestled against the aging trunk, near the top of the oak. She would grab her bag, neatly packed the night before, and any books she needed, and she would climb down the long curving wooden steps to the ground. This far out from Arlathan the paths were not typically paved. The path to her oak was no different. </p><p>Most mornings the forest floor was dim and shaded as she made her way into the village. Today was no different. The ground was dense and springy beneath her feet as she walked, and sometimes skipped, towards the center of their little community. When she had first come to call this oak home, she had tried to take a different path each day, but after a few decades she had exhausted all the routes she could find. </p><p>On this day she took the most direct path she could find. She was heading straight to the clearing behind the market where she would meet her students. They were excited about today and so was she! Today they were doing an experiment with cooking. The children loved experiment days the best, and she knew she could count on them to bring extra energy on these days. While that enthusiasm was great for learning, it was not great if she was not there to redirect them. Sometimes they wandered off into the nearby market or deeper into the forest, and danger lurked in both places, albeit of different kinds.</p><p>An’da loved her work. She took the smallest of the elvhen, usually ones born naturally, rarely would a spirit choose to be born in a younger body. She would meet with them in the clearing behind the market and they would read stories, sing songs, do science experiments, magic experiments, play, climb, chase, and run together. While they had their fun their parents could attend to their work without distraction. Each day for a few hours, An’da and her charges would play, learn, and discover.</p><p>There were not many children even in larger communities. Indefinite lifespans naturally led to a longer delay in reproducing. And children here matured more slowly than in her first world. But there were 14 young ones in her community (and one on the way) and she knew them all. </p><p>As An’da neared the market, scanning the low growing ferns for mushrooms to add to their experiment, she heard horns announcing the arrival of a noble born of the Elvhen. She quickly jumped off the path and darted behind a tree, eager to escape their notice. A mounted entourage of armed hunters galloped past at break-neck speeds. As they passed, she noted that they were flying the banner of Andruil. She was grateful that she had heard the horns and had not been trampled beneath their horses as they passed. As the dust of their passing settled, she emerged from her hiding place, and continued towards the market proper. </p><p>Theirs was the last community between Arlathan and the wilds to the west. After their market one would have to ride for days before finding another. Small stalls selling various fruits, vegetables, nuts, clothing, tools, and such were stretched out in a wide teardrop shape. With the point heading out on the paved road toward the great city. </p><p>The stalls were not fancy, no crystal spires or bejeweled canopies, but they were still beautiful to An’da’s eyes. The stalls were made from magically grown wood. Saplings coaxed to twine around another, creating the structures that held the canopies and tarps covering the merchants stalls. Tarps woven through with magic covered the woven saplings and glowed or glittered depending on the merchant’s whim. The baker’s tarp would send off whiffs of sweet smelling aroma to entice buyers. The blacksmith’s stand was more solid and his tarp appeared to be solid steel, only a very stiff breeze would give it the lie.</p><p>As An’da made her way into the market, she greeted the merchants setting up shop for the morning. She stopped at the stalls where her youngest charges would be and collected them. Little Anise, the blacksmith’s daughter with her fiery red curls, Mihren with his serious face and his need to protect, and Syrillon with his constantly questioning nature and constantly moving form.</p><p>When they reached the clearing just to the west of the market, near where the paved road began, she saw that most of her other charges had already arrived. </p><p>“Hello,” she greeted them, patting heads and hugging the more effusive of her students “What are we doing today? I seem to have forgotten,” she joked with them. </p><p>“An’da,” little Shielan said, looking up at her with wide coffee colored eyes, “You forget every time it’s ‘speriment day.” Her little voice was solemn and disappointed.</p><p>“Experiment,” Anise corrected her with exaggerated patience. She thought her additional two years of age helped her have great reserves of patience. “It’s pronounced, experiment.”</p><p>“Do I?” An’da asked, pretending confusion. The older children knew it for a game and gladly played along.</p><p>“Is it a story day?” asked Viera. She loved story days best, but as the oldest she took on the role of Anda’s helper. Playing this game with the ‘little’ ones was part of her job and she took her responsibilities very seriously. She was after all, 14, which is almost 15, and 15 was old enough to start helping her mother at her bakery.</p><p>Then Syrillon interrupted, giving Viera a glare, “Of course it’s experiment day, Shielan.” He was only a few years younger than Viera and he took any opportunity to challenge her, plus he had a soft-spot for little Shielan. Everyone else avoided him because of his contrary nature, but Shielan made him flower crowns and gave him a hug every morning. “You can tell because An’da’s bag is so full! Her bag is always fullest on experiment days.”</p><p>An’da chuckled quietly, appreciating the interplay between her young ones. She made a mental note to bring an empty bag next time. Perhaps an experiment about the air would work nicely. He loved a good challenge. “You are right Syrillon, it’s experiment day. Come on everyone, find a place to sit where you can see, while I set up. Mihren, will you take this bucket and bring some water from the stream?” </p><p>She could have just magicked up some water, but these young ones weren’t controlled enough yet, and she wanted them to be able to do this, to have the satisfaction of completing it themselves. As it was, Mihren was happy to trot off to the stream and show his great strength by hauling back as much water as he could carry.</p><p>It was a while before the children were gathered around on stumps, fallen logs, or just the ground. It took her a little longer to get her experiment for the day set up on the loam in the center of the clearing. Anda had had a number of jars and vials to pull out of her pack, two handfuls of crystal grace seeds, the mushrooms collected on the walk here, and her bucket for water. Except, she didn’t have her bucket of water...</p><p>“Anise, have you seen Mihren?” she asked her youngest helper. </p><p>“No, hahren,” she replied, as she examined An’da’s supplies, “He hasn’t come back yet.” </p><p>She considered sending Viera after him, but something tickled at the back of her mind. A strange sense of foreboding and concern built in her chest and a wrinkle formed between An’da’s eyes. Mhiren wouldn’t have dawdled, she thought. If he had a ‘feat of strength’ to perform, he’d be focused, sharp as the blade he was named for. He never missed an opportunity to prove himself. </p><p>“Viera, watch over the others. I’ll go get Mihren.” Viera was responsible, she would make sure the others stayed in the clearing and close to the market.</p><p>Taking the most direct route towards the nearest stream, An’da tried to calm herself by running through the list of reasons Mihren was not in any danger. He’s just a youngling and was probably distracted. A frog, an especially shiny fish, perhaps a found object in the ferns along the path, had captured his attention and he was on his way back. If he had been any of the other younglings this thought would have calmed her, but she knew her charges. Mihren was surprisingly single-minded at the best of times, when given a task to complete for an elder, he was unstoppable. </p><p>A silver and shimmering hare darted out of the underbrush and across her path, startling her and making her jump. ‘Get a hold of yourself, An’da.’ she thought to herself. Taking a deep breath and scanning the path ahead she saw where the stream met the path and her bucket lying half in the ferns just a few feet from the stream, no Mihren in sight. Now she was afraid.</p><p>“Mihren!” she called out as she ran to the stream and picked up the bucket. “Mihren, call out if you can hear me!” She waited a heart beat, two, three, four. Where was he? Scanning the scene she saw trampled shrubbery on the other side of the stream. Crossing the stream in a series of leaps and scrambles she came out on the other side and began to follow the trail of crushed vegetation. </p><p>She hadn’t gone far when she began to hear shouts, and angry ones at that, directly ahead where Mihren’s trail led. The forest here was thicker, the trees and shrubs growing so closely together that branches snagged on her robes and pulled at her hair. Nevertheless, she picked up speed, crashing towards the angry voices. </p><p>Now she could just make out his defiant little voice. He sounded scared but like he was trying very hard to be brave, “No, you can’t kill it! I won’t let you!” </p><p>“You will stand aside, child, or you will die too. I have lost my patience with this.” A woman’s voice, regal, bored sounding. Who was threatening Mihren?! An’da picked up speed again and  almost stumbled over him as she suddenly crashed into a clearing. Coming to an ungainly stop next to him she surveyed the scene, adrenaline making her hyper aware.</p><p>Directly ahead of her, mounted on a massive black stallion, armored in fine chocolate colored hunting leathers, was a tall plain faced elf. She was carrying an exquisitely carved bow of ironbark which was drawn and pointing directly at Mihren’s heart. Next to her was Mihren who was pale and shaky, his usually tan skin was a few shades too white, but his black eyes were defiant as he stared down the huntress. Behind Mihren was… Oh merciful Creators!!! </p><p>A griffon. A fully grown griffon was standing behind Mihren. It’s clear yellow eyes glaring over the boy’s head at the huntress. Mihren was lucky he hadn’t been eaten! The griffon’s beak was just a few feet above the boy’s head. The huntress’ bow was aimed at the boy’s heart. And, An’da had just pieced together a couple of important facts. </p><p>One, this elf was plain faced, on a good day that might mean she was too unimportant to be blessed with the vallaslin. The presence of a drawn bow and a griffon told her that this was not a good day. Two, she was wearing armor of the most exceptional quality, which when combined with point one, left only one option. This huntress was an Evanuris, more specifically, Andruil. Which meant that Mihren had been staring down the greatest huntress of Elvhenan and was intentionally standing between her and her chosen prey. </p><p>As three sets of eyes swiveled to meet hers, An’da noted the only positive point she could see in this whole mess. She had distracted them all by bursting into the clearing, and maybe, just maybe, she could defuse this situation.</p><p>“She can’t kill him An’da!” Mihren shouted, upon seeing her. “He’s my friend! I’ve played with him since he hatched! I won’t let her have him! Friends stand up for each other! You said!” Then he turned to the griffon and said, “Fly, Talon!” </p><p>With that the griffon unfurled its wings and took off shrieking defiance at the elf with the bow. She let fly the knocked arrow and the griffon caught it in a free talon, snapping it in two. She knocked another aiming for the griffon as the Mihren ran straight for her middle and tried to tackle her. He succeeded only in jostling her, but it was enough to send her arrow off course and save the griffon before it veered away out of sight.</p><p>An’da stared in horror, as the evanuris dropped the bow, grabbing the boy by the arm and spinning him tightly in her grasp. Within an instant a knife was securely at his throat. ‘Where did she pull that from?!” An’da thought as she caught Andruil’s furious glower. Any chance of calming the evanuris was now long gone. </p><p>“You!” The huntress turned her attention to An’da. “is this defiant young one yours?” Her penetrating gaze had An’da pinned to the spot.</p><p>“Y, y, yes,” An’da stuttered back. The huntress had the most piercing yellow eyes she’d ever seen, but it was the knife at Mihren’s throat that held all of her attention. “Yes, he’s mine,” she tried a little more confidently, frozen in place. </p><p>“And you teach him to defy his gods?” The evanuris asked, fury and ice in her tone, “That is most unwise. He interrupted my hunt and now my prey has fled. For that there is a price.” </p><p>“I teach him to help his friends, not to defy gods.” An’da felt her own eyes go wide with horror. Did she just talk back to an angry god?! What is wrong with me?! She thought. “I apologize for the error,” she tried, hoping to smooth over her rashness. “He is just a boy.” An’da tried to bargain for his release. “He hasn’t even seen 10 summers. Any offense given was unintentional. Perhaps you could, in your benevolence, let him go.” An’da hoped that praise of the woman’s goodness would help her, it did not.</p><p>“You think it is flattery to call me benevolent,” a sneer curled her lip. “I am anything but. He was quite intentional when he chose to attack me.” The evanuris released Mihren then, sheathed her knife and picked up her bow. She knocked a new arrow and aimed it at the boy. “The price will be paid and I will have my hunt. Run boy, you are now my quarry.” she said to him. Mihren’s eyes went wide at the arrow trained on him. His courage fled, and where before he had been bold in defence of his ‘friend’, now he was clearly only a child, tears springing to his eyes, he began to tremble, feet frozen where he was. </p><p>“RUN!” she screamed at him. The fury and madness in her wide yellow eyes broke through his fear and he turned and fled.</p><p>An’da watched in horror as Andruil tracked the young boy with her arrow, knowing he could never run far enough or fast enough. She didn’t stop to think, before she was even aware of her feet moving she had darted between the huntress and the boy. “Stop!” she yelled.</p><p>“You dare!” the evanuris hissed at her.</p><p>“If a price must be paid, then I will pay it!” the words rushed out of An’da before she could think. </p><p>“You?” a huff of dismissal, “You are soft and easy prey. You would be no challenge.”</p><p>“And a boy of 8 summers is more fitting prey for a god?!” An’da defied her, all thought abandoned. That this woman would consider hunting a child, had enraged her beyond reason. “How mighty you must be!” she sneered back glaring into Andruil’s eyes. The evanuris was taller and broader, muscles toned and her every move said she was a weapon. An’da was short, and most certainly soft, but in that moment she thought she could take the other elf based on her protective rage alone.</p><p>They stood that way for a moment, glaring at one another, hawk-like yellow eyes on stormy-grey, before Andruil broke out into a full throated laugh. She replaced the bow on her back and returned the arrow to its quiver as she recovered. “It looks like I will have my fun after all!” she said, her voice full of a strange, cold sort of mirth.</p><p>Startled confusion battled with the offended rage inside An’da, and a nervous feeling began to slide up her spine. Something very wrong had just happened. </p><p>“You will pay the price,” Andruil finished, “As of this moment you are mine.” </p><p>An’da went cold, the rage leaving as fast as it had come. ‘‘Mine’? No. No, no, no, no...’ she thought to herself. She had heard the stories of the god’s slaves, and while many thought it a great honor to wear their vallaslin, she had never been one of them. A terrible dread began to fill her as Andruil advanced on her slowly, a predatory gleam in her eye.</p><p>An’da thought about running, but she knew her chances of escape were so slim as to be nonexistent. She steeled herself, standing as tall as she could, shoulders back head held high, hoping that the evanuris could not read her abject terror.</p><p>Andruil was now just a handbreadth away. An’da could feel the magic the other woman was pulling towards her, as Andruil raised her hands to An’da’s face, sending white hot pinpricks of pain dancing across her face. An’da refused to cry out. She could feel the binding magic, her will being tied to this bloodthirsty woman before her. The vallaslin was more than just pretty markings, Andruil was claiming her, tying An’da’s will to her own. </p><p>The huntress kept her hands firmly clamped to An’da’s face as she sent the magic into her. An’da felt the pinpricks darting down the back of her neck, arching out over her shoulders, down her back, wrapping around her ribs and curling onto her stomach, and lastly branching out onto her limbs, all the way down to her wrists and her ankles. She refused to cry out, she would hold onto as much of herself as she could. She would never submit.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Inauspicious Beginnings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which An'da does not do horses, things hurt, and she ends up a sack of potatoes.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The ride to Andruil’s holdings was grueling. An’da had ridden a horse only once in this body and that had been a slow, gentle, scenic walk. This was a full gallop, holding on for dear life as one of Andruil’s servants crushed her, rather mercilessly, into his armor. She had bruises in minutes, blisters after the first half hour, and scrapes from where his armor rubbed against the bare skin of her arms. She grasped at the saddle with white-knuckled ferocity.</p><p>Added to the physical discomfort of the journey, was the emotional distress. She hadn’t been allowed to say good-bye to her students. She hadn’t been allowed to gather belongings from her home. She hadn’t been allowed time to think, let alone breathe.</p><p>When Andruil completed the spell, binding An’da with the vallaslin, she immediately called for her hunters with a sharp whistle. While An’da was still gasping for breath, the sting of the new marks fresh on her skin, the hunters rode up in a thunderous gallop. Andruil waved her hand with a dismissive flick, saying, “Take this one,” her voice cold and disinterested now. Then she mounted her horse and sped out of the clearing, so fast she might have flown. </p><p>The mounted hunter nearest her, with long intricately braided chestnut hair and violet eyes, scooped her off the ground, settled her unceremoniously on the saddle in front of him, and took off with barely enough time for An’da’s heart to beat. His right arm was wrapped round her waist, crushing her to him. The ridges in his armor a bruising pressure just below her ribs. The freshly laid vallaslin across her back stung and was rubbed raw against the warrior’s chest plate. The rhythm of the horse’s gallop bruising her thighs and her backside.</p><p>As they thundered off towards her uncertain future An’da’s mind whirled. What would happen to her students? Poor Shielan would be terrified if Mihren was scared when he returned, which he would be. Syrillon would comfort her in his protective way, she hoped. Viera was smart, when Mihren came back and told her what happened she would get the others safely back to their parents. They would be okay, she had to tell herself that. Andruil had galloped away from them and she hadn’t seen any hunters head back towards them. Creators, she would never see them again. Their excited giggles, their pride in each new accomplishment, they were now as far from her as the moons. Tears began to well in her eyes. </p><p>And what of her friends, her community? She was supposed to meet Arlise’el and Belavahn after sun down to prepare for their decennial trip to the sea. They wouldn’t worry at first. An’da was often distracted and frequently arrived late. Belavahn would enjoy the extra time alone with Arlise’el. What would they think when she didn’t arrive after hours? There was no authority to report an unmarked elvhen’s disappearance to. Had she been part of a noble house, guardians would have investigated her disappearance, but even then, no one would stop Andruil from taking what she wanted. An’da was lost to them. The thought brought a sob to An’da’s throat. She bit it back. She would not let them see her break. </p><p>She wasn’t fool enough to think she would be leaving Andruil’s service. No story she had ever heard about an elf trying to escape service had a happy ending. Many involved punishments that were still being enacted centuries later. </p><p>Some of those in service to the gods appreciated their position, some actually competed to take the vallaslin of Mythal. Some were allowed leisure time, given education. Some were well cared for. Others were killed to power a spell, or used to keep nobles happy in the bedroom. She shivered at the thought. To what use did Andruil want to put her. She couldn’t imagine it would be pleasant for her, not after seeing Andruil’s face, the look in her eyes, as she marked An’da. Another shudder rippled through her. </p><p>“Enough! Be still!” the warrior barked the command in her ear. She did her best to comply. </p><p>As the miles flew by the pain of the broken blisters on her thighs, the bruises on her rear, and the scraped-raw feeling of her back, combined with the crushing weight against her midsection to make every hoofbeat a symphony of aches and pains. Tears were streaming freely down her face, the salt stinging the freshly laid vallaslin before drying in the mountain wind. Eventually she couldn’t think anymore, her mind numbed, focused only on keeping silent. She would not cry out.</p><p>As much as she dreaded her fate at their destination, she was distantly relieved when a dwelling emerged abruptly from the trees around them. Nestled at the foot of a mountain was Andruil’s sprawling estate. </p><p>It appeared out of the forest so quickly it must have been concealed by a spell. One moment they had been barreling down a path surrounded by towering spruce and pine. The next there was a clearing of sorts and Andruil’s estate wrapped around them like claws closing in on their prey.</p><p>Like many of the most fantastic structures in Elvhenan, Andruil's estate appeared to have naturally grown from the surrounding environment. A rise of rough river stones formed the base of the horseshoe shaped structure. Pine, spruce, and cedar trees grew together around the stone and through it, branches growing together to create walls, platforms for archers on guard, and arched windows filled with a dark enchanted glass. To their left were stables made of slate and spruce. Directly ahead must be the main house. A path of dark slate stones lead to the smooth paneled, dark, wooden doors. </p><p>The hunters were grim faced and surly as they dismounted and handed their horses over to the stable hands. The stable hands kept their eyes down and heads bent, as the hunters began to stalk away or gather in small groups grumbling amongst themselves. Their collective mood was dour. Thankfully, she didn’t see Andruil or her mount here. </p><p>The hunter she rode with was the last to arrive. He brought his steed to an abrupt halt in front of the stables. Then he swiftly released his hold on her and nimbly leapt from the saddle. An’da took a big gasping gulp of air. She could finally breathe fully without the crushing weight of his arm. Her eyes stayed fixed to the braided mane of her mount while she gulped in the cool mountain air.</p><p>She knew she needed to dismount, but it seemed movement was beyond her. First she had to unclench her fingers from their hold on the saddle. They had stiffened with her desperate hold and she had to pry them loose. Then she tried to get one leg over the horse. Moving her legs was agony. She stifled a sob as she tried to swing her left leg over the horse. She could barely lift it. The right was worse. In the end she used her arms to push herself back and drag her uncooperative left leg onto the saddle. In the process, she rubbed her raw blisters against the pommel of the saddle. She stifled another sob at the pain, lost her balance, and fell in an ungainly heap to the dirt. The hunters erupted into mocking laughter. </p><p>Any other day her blushing would have been furious, red and obvious. Today she was so numb she could not feel, could not focus on anything other than her hands in the dirt, the feeling of it’s grit on her cheek, the contrast of her pale skin against the gritty brown earth in front of her, and the coarse dry grains of soil beneath her palms as she tried to summon the strength to stand. </p><p>She pushed up to sitting and tried to get her feet beneath her. Her legs refused to cooperate and they collapsed beneath her. She fell with a groan, onto her bruised rear end. The laughter of the hunters continued and she could hear their mocking tone, but her numbed mind could not make out their meaning. </p><p>She focused again on her hands in the dirt and summoned the last of her strength to push herself to her knees. She was able to get one foot under her. She stopped frozen there. She was not sure she could manage the other. She was still swaying there, hunters laughing and chiding all around her, when she felt a strong hand grab her forearm, haul her to her feet, then pick her up, and sling her over a shoulder like a sack of grain. </p><p>“Show’s over. Get cleaned up, you have duties.” The order rumbled through her in a deep rich voice, as the elf carrying her directed the hunters back to their tasks. Then he carried her down a slate path to a side door, and into Andruil’s home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A New Family</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An'da gains a new name, and settles in at Andruil's.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Things at Andruil’s Estate got worse before they got better. The elf who had scooped her off the ground just so happened to be the same one from her horse ride, and he had not been happy that he was saddled with her care. She was a soft, little thing. Weak. Unaccustomed to horses and her hands said she had never held a blade. She would die here within the first month, if not the first week, he was certain of it.</p><p>When she fell off the horse he had simply left. Unfortunately for him, he had forgotten his wife’s favorite blade. She had stashed it beneath the saddle before he left for good luck. The irony of it did not escape him. He could not return without it. When he went back for it he saw the tiny woman trying to get up out of the dirt. She didn’t ask for help, she didn’t beg or plead, she simply pushed herself up with shaking arms and collapsed back into the dirt. This was not surprising. What was surprising, was that she didn’t beg for help, didn’t plead with the hunters for mercy or assistance, and she didn’t give up. He was about to leave again when he saw she had managed to get herself to one knee. It was obvious from her trembling limbs, it wouldn’t last long, but something in her silver grey eyes stopped him.  </p><p>Some creators cursed part of him, took pity on her, admired her stubbornness, regardless of how useless her form might be. He strode up to her, picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and ordered the hunters back to work. As Andruil’s first, he had that right, and none were stupid enough to challenge him. </p><p>He ignored the gaping stares of the household staff as he carried her towards the servants quarters. By carrying her in, by interacting with her at all, he had taken responsibility for her. He found an empty room near the end of the hallway closest to the stables. It had once belonged to Nathra, a good hunter that one. She’d been brought down by one of Ghilan'nain's latest creations, and sent to the household staff when she lost her leg. She couldn’t stand the dishonor and had taken her own life. </p><p>No one would mind if he stashed the new one here. He plopped her down on the hard stool in the corner of the room and left. Judging by her dazed expression, he was fairly certain she would be there when he got back. If not, he was freed from having to take responsibility for her.</p><p>As he scoured the hallways, servants jumped out of sight. He had been told he had a fearsome glower. He was comfortable with that if it meant less talking and wasted time. As he entered the main house he found who he was looking for. </p><p>A woman of average height with long chestnut hair covered by a white cloth, tied underneath her unbraided hair. She had eyes the same violet as his and they were piercing as they turned to study him. She looked up at him, a question in her eyes.</p><p>“Come with me,” he said. </p><p>She nodded. Then he turned and strode away, confident that she would keep up. There was no escaping her. He could practically feel the questions she was asking to his back as she hurried to keep up. Then he could actually feel the questions as her magic caught up to him.</p><p>Who was hurt? What was the beast? Venomous? Natural or crafted? What field-aid was given? Then an audible grunt came from behind him. Nevermind, probably none, you’re all useless when it comes to anything other than killing.</p><p>He could feel her exasperation in the tone of her projected thoughts. </p><p>Ishan? She put a hand on his bicep and peered around him while she struggled to keep up. He stopped for her. Ishanmis, what is the matter, son? Where is the wounded one? A hand shot to her mouth, her eyes widening with fear, It wasn’t Rogasha was it? I thought she was assigned guard details for the year? </p><p>Shaking his head, he comforted her, “No, mamae, Rogasha is fine. Though she may skin me if I don’t make it to the main hall before the meal.” He patted her arm on his bicep. “Come,” he said as he continued off on his path. “Andruil has claimed another toy. I don’t expect this one to last long.”</p><p>____</p><p>An’da was still sitting on the stool where he had left her just moments before. She had the vague feeling of disconnectedness that comes with shock and she was visibly shaking when the door opened. </p><p>She distantly noted that the tall warrior had returned and had brought with him a much-shorter, female version of himself. The woman didn’t speak to An'da, but quickly drew a blanket out of a chest near the door and wrapped it around her. Then the woman reached out with magic, tendrils of it slowly scanning An’da’s aching form.</p><p>The woman reached into a pocket in her apron and drew out a vial of a slightly glowing purple liquid. She held it out to An’da and then mimed drinking it. Still feeling distant and numb, it took An’da a moment to realize what she meant. Then she slowly took the vial and tried to take the stopper out of the bottle. She had no luck, her hands were shaking too much. </p><p>With a grunt, the tall warrior took it from her hands, pulled the stopper, and then passed it back to An’da. Then he barked at her. “Drink!” and she took it without hesitation, too tired and numb to question. Within moments her eyes drifted shut and she felt no more.</p><p>____</p><p>Hours later she was woken by Andruil’s hunters, still dazed with the sleeping draught and aching from muscles unaccustomed to riding. The door slammed open and someone stormed into her room. She raised herself on an elbow and tried to shake the sleep from her mind. </p><p>The hunter stormed across the tiny room, and ripped back the woolen blanket covering her. She couldn’t seem to get her bearings fast enough to object, or even make sense of what was happening, before strong arms pulled her to her feet and threw her over their shoulder, stomping out of the room. </p><p>As she flopped uncomfortably over the shoulder of this new hunter she tried to take stock of her situation, as much as her groggy mind would allow. Her wounds were healed, she noted gratefully, and someone had taken the time to change her into a clean tunic and soft leather leggings. Her head still swam, but she tried to speak to her captor.</p><p>“Whereya takin me?” was the best she could get out. Her speech was slow and slurred. She wasn’t even certain if he could hear her. She needed to remember not to drink the purple stuff next time. If there was a next time. </p><p>She was vaguely aware of a door opening and the sound of many many people, chattering, laughing, the clink of plates and glasses. She tried to twist her head to see her surroundings, but all she could manage was varied views of the broad elvhen back of her captor before she was unceremoniously dumped on the slate floor. She heard all the chattering still as a hush fell over the room.</p><p>In front of her was a dias upon which sat a large, ornate, chair that looked as though it was carved entirely from antlers with a small table next to it. Seated on the horned throne was none other than, Andruil herself. She no longer wore her intricate hunting armor, instead opting for a blood red tunic with brown leather breeches and boots, a brown fur cape about her shoulders. She was looking down at An’da as though she were worth no more notice than gnat. </p><p>“Well, you don’t look quite so brave now, do you?” Andruil drawled lazily, as An’da slowly goaded her drugged limbs into a wobbly standing position. “Pity, there was a bit of fire about you before, but now,” she waved her hand airly as if to indicate that An’da’s whole being was lacking. </p><p>“What are you called?” she asked.</p><p>It took An’da a moment to comprehend, her mind still hazy from the purple concoction. She realized she took entirely too long to speak, to get her mind around what had been asked, and then get the words out of her mouth clearly. “An’da Eolasa,” she enunciated very clearly, proud of this minor success.</p><p>“Felasil, I think is more likely.” Andruil replied, if it takes you that long to speak. “Yes, I think Felasil will suit you nicely.” Andruil sat up now leaning forward, An’da felt her vallaslin begin to hum with magic as Andruil spoke, “Your name is now Felasil, any other name you may have carried is gone and you will not speak it.” The magic faded, as An’da’s felt the geas take effect. Andruil continued. “This is only the first of many payments you will make for spoiling my hunt.” Then she leaned back in her chair and commanded, “Take it away, it is ruining my appetite.” </p><p>A servant dressed in non-descript browns and grays stepped away from the wall and took An’da’s arm, leading her away from the dining hall through a small hidden doorway in the wall to her left. When the door slid closed behind them, An’da stumbled at the change in light and the speed of her guide’s footsteps. </p><p>“Quickly,” the young woman urged her, “This way.” An’da was led through a series of maze-like passages woven throughout the lodge. As they went her guide explained. “These are the servants’ hallways. You are never to be seen out of them. I will take you to your bunk. You will be sharing with me, I’m Verlen. There are three others in our bunk room. We all work the kitchens from midday to midnight. You will follow me and do what I say while you are here, understand?” </p><p>Once An’da managed to get her hazy thoughts through all that she nodded and managed a mumbled, “Yes.” She must truly look the fool, she thought to herself.<br/>______</p><p>In the years that followed An’da began to understand the workings of Andruil’s household. Servants were to stay quiet and unseen. The quiet was easy for her, as she was too terrified in her first year to say much of anything. Unseen was more of a difficulty. Because of her bright hair and pale skin, she stood out in a way that most of the other servants didn’t. It was for this reason she was kept almost entirely in the kitchens. It was three years before she saw the main halls again, four before she saw the sky. </p><p>She learned that the hunters were like Andruil’s nobles or generals. The giant one who had picked-her up out of the dirt was called Ishanmis. He was Andruil’s first, and all matters regarding the hunters were run through him. His second was Rogasha, a tall fiery haired woman with broad shoulders and a strong jaw. </p><p>It was a well kept secret that they had been bonded. Men and women were strongly discouraged from interacting, as there were to be no ties stronger than those of the people to their Lady. Punishments for those caught in dalliances were so severe that most avoided even thinking of one another. In the rare instances where a couple chose to flout those laws, the bonding magic was done in secret and only in part, as the vallaslin would detect a full bonding and give notice to the Evanuris they were tied to. Those who were bonded in this way wore small tokens braided into each partner’s hair. Tokens that would seem unremarkable to the leaders, but were well known amongst those marked with vallaslin. </p><p>Over the years An’da slowly made friends with Verlen and the other women in her bunkroom. Later she would learn that they had truly thought her a fool, because of her slurred speech that first night, and how quiet and watchful she had been for her first year. As she began to understand more and speak with the others they found her to be quite intelligent. By her third year they had discovered she was skilled with healing the burns and cuts that often befell the workers in the kitchen. </p><p>It was in this way that she was brought to Lahtara’s attention. Lahtara was the lodge’s healer. She did not speak, (it was rumoured she had lost her tongue, her bondmate, and her freedom on the same day) but she did use her magic and her thoughts to communicate just as clearly with those she chose to communicate with. To the others she was simply a mute using hand signals to convey her meaning. Her own silent rebellion. </p><p>Lahtara taught An’da more and more of her healing skills over the next few decades: potion making, magics for stopping bleeding, how to make the awful purple elixir, how to set bones, close wounds, prevent pregnancy, and ease births. An’da became extremely proficient with surprising speed, and with time Lahtara and An’da became close, she had found a true hahren. </p><p>It was through her training that An’da came to know Rogasha and Ishanmis more closely. In bringing her into the household Ishanmis had tied his honor to hers, a fact she was grateful for, believing it kept her alive that first year when all the servants thought her simple-minded. Because of this tie he trusted her to see to his injuries. Injuries that the other hunters would exploit if they knew of them. It was because of her care and discretion for Ishanmis, that Rogasha began to come to her when injured as well. Then, in the last decade, Felassan, Ishan’s little brother, began to grace her sick room. </p><p>Over decades of caring for them all in secret she came to know them well, considering them family. She knew not to take Ishan’s glowers seriously. She knew that a tiny tic at the corner of his eye was the same as a guffaw of laughter from any other. She knew Rogasha was deeply superstitious and a closet romantic. She knew just what sparkle in Felassan’s eye meant she needed to be wary of mischief. Mostly, she knew that she could trust them all with her life, despite their arguments, mischief, and gruffness. It was a closeness she would be grateful for in the years to come.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ishanmis - man-blade <br/>Fellasan - slow arrow<br/>Rogasha - brave woman <br/>Lahtaras - thunder - voice of the sky <br/>Verlen - taken child</p><p>These names are courtesy of FenxShiral's Project Elvhen. Damn, they did a lot of hard work!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Leaving Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An'da finally gets off Andruil's estate, Felassan is mixed up in something big, and we meet a menacing white wolf.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Felasil!” She heard her alias (even after all these decades, she refused to think of it as her name) whispered with force, through the open window of the sick room. Putting down her pestle she quickly made her way to the long horizontal window, climbing up on a cot to see out. She cursed her height as she still had to rise up on her toes to peer over the ledge. </p><p>Looking out she saw Felassan, sitting on a tree branch just outside the window.</p><p>“What are you doing up there?” She whispered back</p><p>“Needed to see you. Got some good intel. I know you’ll want to hear this.” His eyes sparkled in that way she knew would lead to regret, and probably not his. “You need to stock up on embrium. Today. It’s urgent. Tell Lahtara I said so.” Then with a smirk of his full lips and wink of a violet eye he leaned back and fell straight back and out of the tree. She gasped at his sudden fall and then cursed herself again. He’d be fine. His acrobatics were legendary at this point. At least in his own mind they were, she grumbled to herself. He did it just to get a rise out of her. And it worked every time. </p><p>Half an hour later she was wandering the forests behind the lodge looking for embrium, when she was grabbed from behind, picked up, and spun in circles until she thought she might be sick. Then just as suddenly she was back on her feet, staring at the grinning idiot that was Felassan. </p><p>She reached out and punched his bicep playfully. “Damn you! You scared the life out of me!” </p><p>“Nah, you’re fine.” He chuckled and quirked an eyebrow at her. Then he grabbed her arm, flopping it up and down, “But you do need to work on your swing, that was a useless little bump.” </p><p>“That’s why I’m a healer, not a hunter.” She responded archly. “Now what was so important that I needed to come out and collect embrium. We have barrels full back at the lodge and there are other things I could be doing.”</p><p>“Oh fine,” he flopped down dramatically on a log, “She only wants me for information.” </p><p>“She doesn’t want you at all, but she’s stuck with you. So, out with it already,” An’da glared at him, trying to keep the smile from her eyes, which just had it sneaking out the corners of her mouth. She could never keep a thought off her face. She didn’t know why she kept trying. </p><p>“Oh fine,” he groused, “You’re no fun anymore. Big news, we’re packing up and heading into Arlathan, some big family reunion of the evanuris. Looks like we’ll be gone about a little over 11 years.”</p><p>“This?! This is your big news?” She threw up her hands in disgust and went to recover her dropped basket and knife, “Fel, everyone knows that. I was mixing up extra traveling sickness remedies when you interrupted me for this useless errand. I could be done by now, curse you.” She found her collecting knife and stuffed it back in her sheath with emphasis “Embrium…” she snorted in disgust.</p><p>“Oh I didn’t know you got the traveling sickness.” </p><p>“I don’t Fel, but others do and you know how....” she trailed off as the implication hit her, her eyes going suddenly wide, “Wait, what?!”</p><p>“But I thought you knew everything already,” he joked at her with a wink. </p><p>“I’m going? I’m leaving the lodge?” An excited sort of disbelief began to fill her. “But that makes no sense, Lahtara is the ranking healer, she’s leagues ahead of me in skill, and knowledge, and connections, and... and, everything! There’s no reason to have me-”</p><p>“If I could get a word in?” He interrupted, “It seems that Ghilan’nain remembers what you did for her halla on her last visit, and requested you personally. Andruil will do anything for that woman. Oh, and Ishan’s staying behind this time. He’s pissed. I’d steer clear of him until we get back.”</p><p>“Wait, why’s Ishan staying? Wouldn’t Andruil want her strongest hunter with her?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” he responded seriously. Then, putting on a cultured accent of the Arlathani nobles he intoned “I cannot pretend to know the mind of our illustrious Lady.” He gave a little mock bow and then offered her his elbow. “Shall I escort you back to castle my Lady?” </p><p>She laughed at him and keeping him at arm's length, walked with him, her mind already whirling. </p><p>The travelling party was staying at Mythal’s palace in the great city, that was well known. That meant she would be just two eluvians and an hour's walk from her old home, her tree with the break in the leaves, where the sun would wake her in the mornings, her children. They’d all be full grown by now, not full adults by elvhen standards, but old enough to be full members of the village. Could she see them? She’d only need one day away. Just to see how they were. </p><p>What of Arlise’el and Belavahn, perhaps she could see her old friends. What had become of them? Had Belavahn finally gotten up the courage to court Arlise’el? She hadn’t allowed herself to think of them after that first year. It was just too hard. Trying to work here, to stay focused while her heart was so far away. But if she could see them, just for half a day even. </p><p>She’d have to coordinate with Rogasha, keep an eye on everyone’s movements, note all the entrances and exits in the palace, and see when she might be able to disappear, just for five hours maybe? Oh who was she kidding, she’d settle for three. Just enough time to see everyone, make sure they were okay. Maybe-</p><p>“Stop!” Felassan whirled on her. He grabbed her by the arms, leaning into her, his nose just inches from her own, his face uncharacteristically serious. “Creators, I can practically see what you’re thinking! You need to stop. You’re not going anywhere. I can help you get a message out, maybe, if my contacts are still good. But you are not going anywhere. Do you understand?” </p><p>“I- I wasn’t-” she tried, but the fierceness in his eyes stopped her. “Oh fine. I was trying to figure out how to-”</p><p>“Stop, don’t even say it.” He tapped her vallaslin, “Just know it’s not happening.”</p><p>“Fine,” she sighed, shoulders slumping with defeat. She trudged back with him until the lodge came into sight, then he silently disappeared into the shadows of the trees and she walked the rest of the way home, head hanging in defeat. <br/>_____</p><p>The rest of that month was full of constant work. It was not a quick endeavour to ready a whole household of elvhen to travel leagues away. Even by eluvian it took time and preparation. Elvhen lifespans being what they were, there was rarely any rush. Members of the staff who were going, were expected to do double-duty as fewer staff could accompany them than typically lived on the estate. An’da would be responsible for ailments and injuries, but also for whatever other duties needed attending to, fetching and carrying mostly she suspected. </p><p>The day before their leaving was full of heartfelt good-byes and well wishes. Verlen gave her a small wooden toggle for her braids. It was carved into the shape of a griffon, for courage and protection. </p><p>Lahtara gave her a dagger and a sheath to carry it in. It was innocuous enough to appear as though it was meant for cutting herbs. It had a carved bone handle and a wicked sharp silverite blade. Keep it on you always. I’d have you stay safe da’lin. Lahtara had told her in her special mix of magic, emotion, and images. </p><p>An’da had jumped on the older woman then and hugged her with all her might. She wasn’t ready to leave, which was strange, because she always thought she would give anything to leave.        </p><p>The next day Ishanmis woke her before dawn, his presence in the female servants’ bunkroom was unusual enough. Added to that, his usual glower was more fierce than usual. Leaving the bunkroom she met him in the hallway, full of trepidation.</p><p>“What is it Ishan? Is everyone well?” she whispered to him in the darkened hall.</p><p>“Yes, at the moment.” He blinked at her a few times, a sign she knew meant he was working out just the right words, and was concerned about misstepping. “I would ask of you…” He hesitated, “an oath.”</p><p>“An oath? Ishan, you don’t need me to swear a thing, just ask. You’re my brother, whatever you need…” she trailed off, worried by the seriousness in his eyes.</p><p>“I would ask you to stay with the household. Do not wander off. Do not go looking for your people. You would agree, as you did with Felassan. Now, you would mean it. When you are so close to your home and your people, you would falter. An oath would hold you. I ask for your sake, for your protection. You would be discovered. Our family should not suffer another loss.” </p><p>An’da wanted to argue, an oath wasn’t necessary. She wasn’t surprised Fel had told him about their conversation in the woods. She was surprised at how intensely this bothered the both of them. As always, while parts of her mind whirled on, another part latched on to a small detail and pulled it out to question.</p><p>“Another loss?” she questioned, before she realized she had spoken. She truly didn’t want to prod at his pain. They all had it here. Most chose not to discuss it. “I...I’m sorry, forget the question-”</p><p>“My father,” Ishan stated, “He thought he had found a way to free my brother, my mother, and I. A slip of the tongue, and he was discovered. Andruil made my mother watch while she gutted him, then threatened her with her son’s lives. Mamae agreed to serve as healer to save Felassan and I. We were first raised as hunters not through skill, but to keep us close, a threat. So that Mamae would not try to act against her.” </p><p>An’da was momentarily stunned silent, “Oh, Ishan,” she sighed, wishing she could hug him, ease his pain in some way. She couldn’t change his past, but she could ease his worries now. Thinking again, how she would never see her little ones. Her heart cracked a little as she realized there was no way to have both. She said a silent good-bye to her old home, a tear escaping her eye. </p><p>Then she drew on her magics and she took his hand in hers, “Ishanmis, brother of my heart, I swear to you that I will not attempt to escape Andruil’s service and I will always remember my duty to our family.” She let the vow take hold then released his hand as quickly. “Will that serve?”</p><p>She could feel as the tension bled off the giant elvhen with a gush. He gave a curt nod. “Thank you, asa’ma’lin.” His deep voice rumbled, “You have saved Lahtara and I many sleepless nights. Please look after Rogasha, ma vhenan does not always keep a calm head.”</p><p>An’da chuckled at that, “She keeps a calmer head than you! Now go, before someone sees you here and rumours start! Away with you.”</p><p>The crinkle at the corner of his eye gave away his mirth and relief as he turned and left her in the darkened hallway. </p><p>____</p><p>Many hours and two eluvians later An’da emerged for the first time inside Mythal’s Arlathan palace, sometime after sunset. The difference from Andruil’s lodge was startling. An’da felt her eyes go wide as she emerged in a shining white courtyard. </p><p>A perfect half moon of white marble walls, streaked with silver and grey, polished so smooth she could see their reflections, was interwoven with the branches and trunks of great willows and birch trees. Trees that twisted around and through the walls, arching gracefully up to form a canopy of green above. The branches were so expertly interwoven that it seemed rock and tree had grown naturally from the ground. The branches and leaves wove together to form a solid overhang and a living thing all at once. In the upper levels of the trees she could see balconies leading out here and there with elaborately clad elvhen coming and going from softly lit rooms that seemed to be grown into the trunks of the vast trees. Sprites in the leaves flickered and glowed like fireflies, providing much of the light in the courtyard. </p><p>The floor beneath her feet was smooth and flat, yet it too was formed of stone and living wood. The same pale polished stone shot through with the rich brown roots of the same trees that made the arches above. She could see that the roots wove through the stone in a pattern mimicking the arching branches of the trees above.</p><p>An elbow in her side, startled her from her gawking, “Close your mouth,” hissed Felassan as he passed her, “Pay attention.” Then he was gone. Taking his place behind Andruil and Rogasha as they awaited their welcome into Mythal’s home. She wondered what had him so serious and tense. From the line of his shoulders to the tightness in his jaw he radiated an intensity and a watchful energy that she had never seen in him before. </p><p>Before she could follow that train of thought much further, the wide double doors leading into the central grove of the palace opened and Mythal emerged. She was flanked on one side by a giant white wolf, and on the other by an auburn haired elvhen woman, dressed in robes of red and orange that moved and flickered as if on fire.  </p><p>The queen of the evanuris was stunning, Golden blonde hair, startlingly green eyes and a tall lithe frame. She moved with a dancer’s grace in even the slightest gesture. Her robes were white and silver, embroidered with dragons chasing up the hem and around her arms. Her beauty seemed to drag all eyes towards her effortlessly.</p><p>When her eyes fell on Andruil, she broke into a gleaming white smile, “My daughter, welcome to my home. It has been too long since we have dined together.” With that she came forward and embraced Andruil. Then she turned and addressed the assembled crowd. “Please be welcome in my home. Sylaise will see you to your grove, we will feast at the first moon’s rise.” With that she ushered Andruil into her home, the giant white wolf padding silently by her side. <br/>____</p><p>Mythal’s place was vast and they had been given a grove of trees to themselves. It appeared that each of the Evanuris were given their own grove and that they all branched out from the two central groves reserved for Mythal and Elgar’nan’s people. From what An’da could see of their new lodgings, Mythal was aware of her daughter’s preference for greens, browns, and grays. The decor lost its bright splendor and gained more muted and wild colors the further into the heart of Andruil’s new territory they went. </p><p>All the planning they had done was to good effect. They were able to unpack and assign lofts and balconies amidst the trees to all of the ranking hunters quickly and easily. Once the hunters left for the feast, a series of shared rooms was set up for the servants as was a bower at the ground level that would serve as her sick room. By the time the feast concluded, the hunters and Andruil would return to their rooms in comfort. </p><p>All the unpacking, organizing, and running up and down stairs had left An’da worn down. Andruil’s lodge was more sprawling and less climbing. Ishan’s early wake-up call, travelling, all the stairs, and activity were taking their toll. Most of the servants had retired for the evening with the exception of Andruil’s direct attendants and herself. She just had to finish arranging the sick room and then she could find her bed and retire. </p><p>If she were being totally honest with herself, she had to admit she was stalling. Her curiosity about the welcoming feast had her frequently glancing up from her work, watching as the hunters began trickling back. She took note of who had a particularly wobbly gait and made notes to send them her hangover remedy in the morning. She also kept an eye out for Rogasha and Felassan. If she could catch one of them as they passed, maybe they could tell her more. </p><p>Realistically, though, Rogasha would have to stay with Andruil until dismissed. That meant, her best chance at getting information tonight was, Felassan. She kept at her work as long as she could, grinding dried elfroot until she felt her eyes drooping shut of their own accord. Giving up and sealing off the sick room with her own personal warding, she left and began to make her way towards the servants' bunkrooms. She’d just have to get her information tomorrow.</p><p>As she mounted the winding staircase leading to the servants’ rooms, she saw a flash of white dart behind another staircase. The furtive movement drew her eye and her curiosity. What was sneaking about their bower at this time of night? All the hunters had returned, save Felassan and Ghestlin. If they were already up to no good, it would not bode well for relations with the other groups, and she owed it to Fel to put a stop to it.</p><p>Leaving the stairs, she drew her magic around herself, bringing the shadows closer, dimming the brightness of her hair and silencing the sound of her footsteps. She stuck to the shadows, which were plentiful this time of night, until she could get close enough to see what had darted under the farthest hunters’ tree. If it wasn’t Fel and Ghestlin, she didn’t want to be seen.</p><p>It was Mythal’s giant white wolf, and he appeared to have cornered Felassan beneath one of the winding staircases. She could just make out it’s voice as it growled at her friend.</p><p>“... answer is the same, and you risk it all by addressing me in public. No one is to have knowledge of our association.” the wolf growled at Felassan, his hackles raised. </p><p>She watched, desperate to find a way to save Felassan from the growling beast, but struggling to see where she could intervene. </p><p>Felassan bowed his head, looking contrite, an expression she had never seen on him before. "I know hahren, I just…" his voice trailed off and some of the tension seemed to leave the wolf. </p><p>Its growl gentled an iota, "Your concern for others is admirable but your lack of caution could get us all killed. Do not contact me directly again." and with that, the great white wolf turned and bound further into the darkness beyond the arbor.</p><p>Felassan crumpled to his knees and put his head in his hands. At the sight of her friend’s distress An’da darted across the path and knelt beside him. It wasn’t until she put an arm around him that he startled.</p><p>“An’da?!” he gasped when his eyes met hers, tears leaving tracks down his cheeks “What are you doing here? What did you see?” The fear in his voice was palpable and he gave her no chance to answer. “You saw nothing. You heard nothing. Understand?” Again, his gaze had the same intensity that had so scared her in the woods at Andruil’s. This was not her playful, lighthearted, trickster brother, this was someone terrified for her.</p><p>“Fel…” words failed her. It hurt to see him like this. She had so many questions. What had he gotten himself into? Could she get him out? Whoever this wolf was, he clearly terrified him and that was reason enough to act. “Fel, what was that? Why are you so afraid? Let me help you.”</p><p>“No!” he grabbed her face, “No, An’da, you stay far away from this. I won’t have another life at risk because of me.” </p><p>“Another? Fel, look, we should talk with Roga-”</p><p>“No! I said!” With that he released her and bolted to his feet. “Leave it, An’da! There’s nothing you could do about it anyway.” The way he said ‘you’ held all the same disdain she’d been fighting against from the hunters for the last few decades. Disdain for her weakness, her useless softness, for the powerlessness of her and her kind. He sneered down at her then strode away. </p><p>She’d never thought she’d hear that kind of dismissal from him. He’d always been her champion, encouraging her, telling her she was just as valuable as the fighters, just as necessary. Telling her she was Important in other ways, ways they were too dull, too proud to see. Now here he was insulting her when all she wanted to do was protect him, the same way he and his family had always protected her. </p><p>This wasn’t her Felassan. Something had been strange about him since they’d first discussed this journey. Somehow, he was connected to Mythal’s wolf and that connection was changing him. She knelt there under the hunters’ tree, working through it in her mind, until the first rays of sun began to rise. </p><p>Accepting that she would get no sleep, she rose and went to her sick-room to prepare and distribute the mornings headache and nausea cures. All the while, working through how she would get her Felassan back. She wouldn’t let the wolf have him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>____<br/>Felasil - Fool<br/>Asa’ma’lin - sister<br/>Ghestlin - little monster</p><p>Elvhen words and names courtesy of the fabulous Fenxshiral  who cannot be given enough credit.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Parties, Spies, Druggings, and Thievery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An'da and Solas meet properly, or rather not so properly. <br/>All the wires get crossed. <br/>Nobody knows what's really going on, but they think they do.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes there is a drugging, no it's not that kind of fic. <br/>An'da is a healer, she doesn't use her powers for evil. She does do some creative alchemy to keep a drunkards hands off a friend.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Felassan avoided her the rest of the month. She saw him in passing, only when she was serving in the hunters’ hall. He always seemed deep in conversation, or intently interested in everything that was not her. The one time he deigned to meet her eye, she was surprised by the depth of anger and embarrassment she saw there. It burned in her heart that he was suffering, and she cursed the white wolf. </p><p>Rogasha was constantly busy with attending to the hunters or Andruil. The hunters were unused to this life of relaxation and constant revelry. Ishanmis had kept them training or hunting most hours of the day and as a result they were usually too tired for their more destructive tendencies to prevail. Here, in the palace, there was no place they could work out their aggression. Rogasha was constantly breaking up drunken brawls or trying to keep their hands off the servants, and that was only when Andruil didn’t have need of her. </p><p>An’da’s own duties were keeping her busy and mostly confined to Andruil’s grove. When she was not brewing up elixirs to cure hangovers, she was needed to soothe overful stomachs, or to close wounds from drunken falls down stairs, or worse, drunken fights. Just yesterday the first of the servants came to her bruised because an inebriated hunter hadn’t liked how he looked at her. Luckily he’d escaped before she could do more than throw a punch. </p><p>An’da was worried that if this continued, she’d be seeing more of this, more of her people wounded and broken. Last night during dinner, she’d had to quietly dose a couple of the more ‘exuberant’ revelers in order to protect one of the serving girls. Her special blend made it appear that the hunters had drunk themselves into a stupor. A quiet word to Sulvun, the head cook, had the girl’s duties moved to the kitchens where she could be kept out of their way for a few months. An’da knew it was just a stop-gap, tomorrow it would be another hunter and another servant. She couldn’t drug them all. She needed a quiet word with Rogasha. She hoped to slip a note to her tonight.</p><p>Tonight was to be the biggest of the welcoming celebrations. Elgar’nan, Ghilan’nain, and Dirthamen were scheduled to arrive later this morning. All of the assembled Evanuris, their nobles and attendants would be dining in the great hall at the center of great estate. </p><p>Everyone of the servants from every household would be needed in some capacity or another. An’da was one of those tasked with serving dinner during the first half of the ball. It was definitely not the best use of her talents, but she understood that everyone would be needed. She was simply surprised to not be hidden away in the kitchens. </p><p>At Rogasha’s insistence, she was to be relieved when dining turned to dancing, so that she could attend to those who ‘overdid’ it. She had already prepared half a dozen different infusions based on what might be needed for the evening. </p><p>Despite her best preparations, she was still nervous. By now she knew what to expect in Andruil’s household. She knew how to keep herself and her people safe. These other evanuris, she only knew them by reputation, and what she had heard of some had made her blood chill. </p><p>Dining was to begin at sundown. By noon An’da had dressed in the servant’s robes provided by Mythal’s people. A common uniform, designed to make all the servants appear a unified group. Their varied vallaslin would give it the lie, but none of the nobles ever looked long enough at their servants to be truly bothered by it. They would all be wearing white tunics with high necks covered in belted robes of a deep iron grey that shimmered just slightly. </p><p>With just a bit of magic, she added a few hidden pockets to hers. She slipped a half dozen tiny vials into her pockets after wrapping them in cloth so they wouldn’t clink and give her away. With her thick curls and braids pulled back into a low bun, she hoped she would blend in enough to not attract anyone’s attention. </p><p>Heading off to the Great Hall was intimidating. Each of the minor groves had winding crystal staircases that led from the balconies of their largest trees to a platform on the outside of the Great Hall, with landscaped landings included seemingly at random. The building itself floated above the very heart of Mythal’s palace. It appeared to be constructed of crystal, gold, and silver, glinting in a thousand different colors at sunrise and sunset. At night it seemed as though a thousand stars and swirling galaxies were caught within the crystal itself. </p><p>Climbing the crystal staircase was unnerving. She could see through each step to the ground below, as it fell farther and farther away. Stopping to take a breath at each one of the landscaped rest stops on her way. As she neared the last of the little floating islands she noticed that the structure itself was much larger than she had at first assumed. It wasn’t only a hall, there were rooms on the upper floors that had their own balconies, elves in elaborate gowns lounged on these, reading, talking, one couple was dancing, and on another balcony an artist had set up an easel. It was maybe ten or twelve stories tall, and full of life and music. When she finally reached the platform at the top her legs were burning and she was in awe at the sheer size of the structure. Within moments she was greeted by one of Mythal’s servants, an inordinately tall man who gave his name as Isenam. He led her directly to the kitchens, and then there was no more time to gawk at the splendor. She was here to work.<br/>____</p><p>Tonight’s celebration was a waste of his time. He was bored with all the shows, the demonstrations of power, the obvious lies, the thinly veiled insults, and even more thinly veiled bragging. How could the rest of them stomach it. Repeating the same tired arguments time and time again. Centuries of their exploits had passed, and they grated on his nerves. The only difference now, was that he sat amongst them, rather than at one of the lower tables.</p><p>Lounging back in his seat at the head table, he looked out over the assembled nobles of Elvhenan. Long tables had been set in sweeping arcs along the sides of the rooms, covered with golden tablecloths that shimmered in the light of thousands of suspended golden flames hovering about the room. Curious spirits and wisps danced about, and sometimes through, the assembled crowd. The plates and goblets shimmered in silver and gold and were filled to bursting with all the plenty the Evanuris had to offer. Exquisitely spiced meats, perfectly poached fruits, mixed with savory roasted vegetables, warm breads in hundreds of colors, flavors, and shapes all spread out for the elite of Elvhenan to fill their bellies. Wines, ales, and liqueurs were liberally poured by servants milling about in their non-descript grey robes, like shadows moving through the splendour. Their robes enchanted so that the eye slid away. It would not do for them to be seen too clearly.  </p><p>He remembered to nod in all the right places as Andruil recounted the story of her latest hunt, from her seat beside him. He absentmindedly praised her wife’s cunning in her latest creation, while he scanned the faces at the lower tables noting at least seven poorly concealed spies. Attempting to appear impressed as she described her battle with the beast, while he determined which nobles were likely to try currying his favor this evening, and what, or who, they were likely to offer to tempt him. He praised Andruil’s cunning while he looked for the little honeyed cakes that made these events almost bearable, and he continued counting down the moments until he could retire. </p><p>“...shot it straight through the eye!” Andruil was saying, and then she called out to a servant passing behind her them. “Felasil! Bring me another bloodwine.” Then she lowered her voice, “And for you?” He had been busy debating whether Siona or Isene would be a better companion for the evening, both were already casting glances his way. Siona’s father wanted access to his northern territories, to expand his vineyard. Isene, thought she would find herself a place at this table one day, and he was her ticket here. He found the thought humorous, but he might play along. He could think of at least a dozen ways her land or her money could be useful to his cause. </p><p>“The hyn’haurasha,” he replied distractedly, a quick glance noted a snow white head disappearing through one of the hidden servants entrances. </p><p>“So, as I was saying…” Andruil continued her story, obviously unaware that her intended audience was only half listening. The drone continued on in the back of his mind until a grey clad arm poured him a new wine and placed two of the small honey cakes on his plate, accompanied by a third cake, covered in pink frilly icing. He had not seen one of those before. Had he asked for those? </p><p>No, he decided. No, he most certainly had not. All food delivered to the Evanuris came directly from their own servants, it was the easiest way to avoid poisoning. To accept food from another’s servant, was to demonstrate great trust. Trust he most certainly did not have in Andruil.</p><p>Glancing about the lower tables he looked for clues as to who may have sent the cakes. As an attempt to curry favor, it was surprisingly direct. As an attempt at poisoning, it was insultingly obvious.  </p><p>He turned to stop the servant responsible, but all he saw was a glimpse of Andruil’s vallaslin, full lips, and white braids decorated with a small griffon bead, before she ducked back through the hidden panel that led to the kitchens. The griffon would be enough to track her by. He turned his attention back to the party and tried to ignore the cakes.<br/>____</p><p>An’da was almost done with her shift, thank the creators. She just had to do one more pass through the hall offering bloodwine to the hunter’s table, and then she could go back to her sick room where it might be quiet for a few brief moments. She slipped out the servants door down on the main floor with her bottle of bloodwine. It was what they favored. She slipped a dose of  her strongest concoction into Marel’s wine. He had been pawing at Rogasha all night, and if she didn’t act early, he’d have one less hand come morning. She wandered past the assembled hunters, looking for empty cups or signs of thirst, when a hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist.</p><p>She stiffened, about to offer the hunter in question a quiet telling off, before she realized it was Felassan. She reached over to ‘pour’ him a drink. “Did you give him the cakes?” He asked, under his breath</p><p>She nodded and he released her wrist, sliding his hand into hers and giving her a brief squeeze before letting her go with a small private smile. If she didn’t know better she’d think he had a crush on the newest of the Evanuris. She walked on, not missing a step, for fear of drawing attention to their tiny interaction. </p><p>She had been confused when he’d slipped her a note, to drop cakes by the head table for the newest of the Evanuris. But, more than confused, she’d been happy that he was speaking with her again. It was easy to drop two honey cakes on a little plate, she’d added the third because they were her favorites and if it helped Felassan… Well, they were family.</p><p>She completed her final pass and returned to the bustling kitchens. She corked the bloodwine and returned it to its place. Then she headed for the exit, relieved to be finding some quiet at last. With her mind distracted by the promise of quiet, she almost crashed into one of the other servants, that tall elvhen man who’d met her at the top of the stairs earlier. Isenam, was it? He had been kind. </p><p>He grabbed her by the arm to steady her, and she laughed as he almost dropped his tray. She caught the goblet that toppled off and tried to replace it, but she was comically too short. Then they sort of danced around each other in that awkward, who-is-going-to-go-which-way dance, people do. She caught the laughter in his eyes as he plucked the goblet from her hand, replaced it on the tray and then grabbed her wrist and spun her around to the side, before rushing off to the dish washers. Shaking her head with a smile, she darted out the nearest door, before she could do any more damage.</p><p>The outer hallway was blessedly silent. Breathing a sigh of relief, she slumped against a wall. That had been great deal of work, very quickly, very loudly, and all in a rush. She just needed a minute here with this cool wall at her back, to collect herself. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, centering herself. Then she squared her shoulders, pushed off the wall, and… Realized she had gone out the wrong door. </p><p>She had no idea where she was. </p><p>That was okay, she’d just retrace her steps. The idea of returning to the chaos that was the kitchens had her stopping just before the door. No, nope, not happening. Someone in there would need her for something and then she’d spend another hour bustling about, or she’d crash into someone else and spend half the night cleaning up. She needed to get to her bower and prepare for when the hunters began to return. She would not tempt fate. </p><p>Reminding herself that The Great Hall had appeared to be circular from underneath, she figured that all she really needed to do was continue down this corridor until it led her back to something familiar. Confident in her assessment of simple geometry, she turned to her right and began looking for the familiar platform to the crystal staircase that had led her here.</p><p>Ten minutes later she had a few doubts. Twenty minutes later she was questioning how a clearly circular hallway that always curled in the same direction could not repeat itself. Thirty minutes later she was beginning to think that she didn’t even rightly know what a circle was. She needed to get her bearings, and the best way to do that would be a window. She decided she would explore the rooms off the left of the hallway. Provided she did know what a circle was, they would be on the outside.  </p><p>The first room appeared to be a sitting room with a balcony. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to see her platform from it, but she did appear to be on the correct level, so that was heartening. Three of the rooms had no windows and were useless to her. The fifth room, however, stopped her in her tracks. </p><p>It was a library the likes of which she had never seen. It was like her wildest dreams had manifested the moment she walked over the threshold. Floor after floor of bookshelves lined walls that curved towards the door and away again like a giant wave. Gentle lights floating at varying heights gave off warm light, enough to read by without being harsh or blinding. Comfy looking chairs and lounges were dotted here and there throughout the space, perfect for curling up on.</p><p>She tried to remind herself that she needed to return to her search for a way out. She told herself that her absence may have been noted by now. She just couldn’t seem to make herself care. </p><p>Her feet carried her forward towards the shelves. Scanning the titles she lovingly ran her fingers along all the spines. Books on every subject imaginable, history, design, mysteries, sciences, magical theory and application, romances, children’s stories…a book on the developing mind of young elvhen! </p><p>She struggled with herself, she knew she wasn’t meant to be here, knew every moment away increased chances that she would be noticed as missing from her post, knew that she needed every possible minute to get herself unlost, and yet… </p><p>She slid the book from its place on the shelf and flipped it open at random. The author’s voice bloomed in her mind and as he expounded on his experiences and observation of elvhen children over the last two thousand years, images of those experiences drifted across her mind’s eye. It was fascinating. She couldn’t absorb it all in an evening and she had places to be. In an impulsive move she quickly closed the book and slipped it into her pocket. She would return it when she was done. </p><p>Scanning the shelf one last time her eyes lit on a book just slightly out of reach, “The Teacher’s Office.” Cursing her height as always, she used a trickle of magic to pull the book to the edge of the shelf where her fingers could just barely graze it. She bumped the spine clumsily and It came tumbling down. She was lucky to catch it before it hit the floor. </p><p>Opening the book to a random page she let the author’s voice whisper in her ear. Then the images began to form in her mind and she felt herself blushing furiously. Oh! It was that kind of book. She thought to herself, turning to face the shelf to hide her blush. As the two protagonists demonstrated one alternative use for a desk.</p><p>She was so thoroughly engrossed she didn’t hear the steps approaching her from behind, nor did she register the presence of another soul until the book was wrenched from her grasp by long fingers that reached over her right shoulder from behind. An’da jumped and squeaked in a most undignified fashion, as she heard the book shut with a loud SNAP! </p><p>Then another hand came to rest on the bookcase to her left, hemming her in.  </p><p>“‘The Teacher’s Office’,” a deep, lazy voice read in her ear. The voice was vaguely familiar, slightly taunting, and entirely too close. </p><p>She felt him take a step closer. Was it possible for him to get closer? Then those same long fingers came into view and the book was reshelved with ease. He must be tall, or taller than her. Who was she kidding, everyone was taller than her. Oh creators, her brain had devolved into babbling, and it was incredibly warm in here. Was heat good for the books or...Fenhedis!</p><p>Those same long fingers grasped her by the wrist and spun her around. She tried to back up, but the bookshelf was surprisingly unwilling to let her pass through. She found herself staring at broad shoulders clad in deep green robes of some impossibly smooth material, with running wolves embroidered in silver running along the collar. He wore a tunic of the same material in a deep slate gray that came up to his neck. </p><p>Anyone dressed this finely was clearly above her station, and nobles didn’t take kindly to their servants making eye contact. She could tell from the angle of his dimpled chin that he was looking down at her and she caught a glimpse of a full lower lip before she glanced down and away. She could feel his breath on her hair and the tip of her ear. </p><p>He still hadn’t released her wrist, nor had he given her any space to breathe. Then she felt those long fingers sliding into the pocket in her robes. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she kept her eyes on the floor, willing this moment to pass. It was an annoyingly stubborn moment, and persisted despite her best efforts. </p><p>A few brief seconds later he pulled out the book she had stashed there earlier and she heard it land with a muffled thump on a nearby lounging couch. She scrunched her eyes shut. This was going from bad to worse. Now he would think she had been stealing, not borrowing. She had enough experience with the elite to know nothing she said would change his mind.</p><p>“Da mirae,” Creators, his voice in her ear practically hummed. “Do you know the punishment for stealing from Mythal?”</p><p>She didn’t think he really wanted an answer, so she remained silent and tried to keep her eyes glued to the floor. That was until she felt her chin being lifted and directed up to his face. </p><p>She tried to avoid his eyes, but it was impossible. </p><p>Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. Not one of them!</p><p>It was the newest of the Evanuris, the one Felassan had wanted to have the sweet cakes. His hair was thick and long, clean shaven along the sides, with braids and silver beads in the shape of wolves woven through it. His eyes were a deep grey-blue and they were staring at her with an almost predatory curiosity. She felt like a mouse caught in a trap, and she couldn’t manage to get words past her lips, as he continued to hold her chin firmly in place.</p><p>Why?! Why was she always attracting the wrong sorts of attention. She knew other elvhen who went thousands of years without a single Evanuris ever knowing they existed and she managed to have angered two in less than a hundred. She must be cursed. </p><p>“What should I do with you, da mirae?” He asked, his eyes never leaving hers, a hint of smile at playing at the corner of his mouth. That mouth was a dangerous thing. She really needed to look away from it, but that only brought her back to his eyes. Then, she was pinned by his gaze and she feared whatever she responded with, would be the wrong thing. She bit her lip to keep from babbling. </p><p>“What is your name, da mirae?” </p><p>She knew before she opened her mouth that this wouldn’t work, but some stubborn part of her refused to give her name as ‘fool’, despite Andruil’s geas. </p><p>“An…” she gulped, anticipating the pain to come, why was she bothering with this? “An..” she felt her vallaslin begin to hum with Andruil’s compulsion, but she tried again regardless, maybe she really was a fool. “An-” a sharp spike of pain seared through her temples and she hissed a breath through her teeth. At the mere thought of trying again, another stab of pain ran up the markings on her back.</p><p>Damn Andruil to the void! It was only a small humiliation when compared to the many she had seen visited on others, but it still made her stomach churn and brought out her stubborn streak.</p><p>She finally settled on a response that was true enough, without giving the name Andruil claimed as hers. Her vallaslin immediately calmed. “I cannot say,” she managed to get out.</p><p>Bringing her eyes back to his, she shook his hand off her chin and put all the defiance she could muster into her eyes, silently daring him to ask again. </p><p>Something shifted in his gaze in response, the curiosity was still there, but there was less of the predatory gleam. She didn’t have time to examine it because in the next moment he said, “Go then,” angling his head towards the door, “second door on the right.” </p><p>She wasn’t about to question whatever impulse had him releasing her. She practically bolted for the door. She wasn’t sure she breathed normally again until her feet hit the crystal steps leading to Andruil’s grove. At least his directions had proved sound.<br/>_____ </p><p>Later that evening, Solas lay back on his bed examining the events of the evening. Trying to pick out the details of the puzzle. </p><p>(He had sat there listening to Andruil drone on, observing the festivities, while those three little cakes had stared at him. He couldn’t be seen testing them for poisons with his magic. That would have insulted his hosts and let his rivals know he was concerned. He couldn’t have eaten them without testing them, so he had done his best to ignore them, as tempting as they were, while he waited for his chance to leave.)</p><p>(Then he had seen it, a glimpse of white and silver hair amidst the hunters. He had watched her weave amongst them, pouring wine, nodding when addressed.) </p><p>Wait - just there. Had she dropped something in that hunter’s cup? He went back in his memories until he was certain of it, Yes, she had. But she had moved on smoothly, as though nothing had been amiss. </p><p>But something was amiss, something was, in fact, missing. By this time in the festivities Andruil’s hunters would have usually been all hands. If their laps hadn’t been full then they would have been grabbing to fill them, but they had let this one woman pass through without so much as a glance. Why?</p><p>(Then his attention had been grabbed again, a hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist. Her eyes had gone wide and surprised, a quick glare of obvious offence, and then those same eyes had softened with recognition, all passing in less than a moment, before she bent to top up the hunter’s cup. She had given him a nod, so subtle most would have missed it. )</p><p>She hadn’t been used to it then, the hunter’s grabbing her. She had considered it offensive. That had been the most unusual, it implied some sort of status. What could have given a simple kitchen servant that sort of status.</p><p>It was the pleased recognition that had caught his interest the most. Here he would find out who she knew, which hunter could help him gather information, which hunter she cared for. </p><p>(Something in the profile was familiar to him. He had watched as the hunter slid his hand from her wrist to her hand and then held for a brief moment before letting her go. He had been surprised to see that it was Felassan’s violet eyes turning back to the other hunters less than a breath later, as though he had not just interrupted the serving girl’s path. Then the young hunter’s eyes had met his and he had given a subtle nod. Ah, so, the impulsive man had been trying to curry favor after his last misstep. The cakes were from him.) </p><p>At the time, he had thought her to be Felassan’s woman. It would have explained why the other hunters kept their hands to themselves, and it would have explained her obvious pleasure at his attention. Mostly, he had been relieved to know he could eat the cakes. In retrospect, he wondered just how deep her deception went. If she had curried favor with Felassan to get to him, then the young hunter was a lost asset. He could not afford many of those. </p><p>(The cakes had been excellent. They had even made the tale of Falon’din’s latest victory tolerable. He had been especially fond of the little pink frilly thing. It had practically melted in his mouth, the exquisite flavors chasing across his tongue had him completely losing focus on the story. ‘Perhaps,’ he had thought at the time, ‘perhaps, he could manage to look past Felassan’s misstep.’)</p><p>(But then, after making his excuses to Mythal and half-hearted promises to Isene to meet her later, he had left the hall. He had only desired a book and his bed. Remembering a volume of poetry he had been meaning to read, he had let himself into Mythal’s private hallway. She had made it clear he was always welcome, and it still felt much like his home. He had been surprised to see movement up ahead, just around the corner. ‘No one should be in these halls,’ he had thought to himself.)</p><p>He had recognized her immediately, of course. Felassan’s woman, deliverer of tasty cakes. He had stopped in the doorway to study her.   </p><p>(She had wandered about the library like a pilgrim at the end of their end of their journey, a reverent awe in her wide eyes. As she came to the bookshelves she had run long, elegant fingers lovingly across the spines. He had felt a bit like a voyeur, studying her this way, in what she obviously thought was a private moment. Then she had hesitated, as though she was about to turn and leave. He had squared his shoulders prepared to be discovered, when something must have caught her eye. She suddenly turned back to the shelves. She had hesitated for another moment, before drawing out a book and opening it, seemingly at random. </p><p>He had let his eyes roam then, following the sweep of a white curl that had loosed itself from her braids, down the slope of her ear to her jaw, down the curve of a slender neck, and back up to full pink lips that she nibbled absentmindedly while she read, a small upturned nose, and a brow furrowed in concentration under Andruil’s vallaslin.) </p><p>In hindsight, whoever had sent her to lure him in had done an excellent job at choosing an appealing subject. He had been so distracted, he hadn’t even registered the strangeness of her reading. Most of Andruil’s servants were illiterate, the huntress didn’t expend any unnecessary time or energy on them. Had Felassan taken the time to teach her to read? He didn’t think the young hunter had that much free time. </p><p>(He had watched her until she closed the book and slipped it quietly into a pocket. Then she had returned to the shelves and he had found he could no longer study her profile. Strangely disappointed at this, he had silently followed her into the room before he was entirely aware of it.)</p><p>More things he had failed to note in the moment, pockets. Traditionally, servants had none. It gave them fewer places to hide stolen goods, knives, or poisons. The thought of poisons brought him back to what she may have dropped into the hunter’s cup in the Great Hall. Why would Felassan’s woman have been drugging the other hunters? Had she drugged him with that tempting pink cake? Was that why he hadn’t acted sooner, hadn’t put the pieces together back in this moment? Was that why he was so entranced?</p><p>(She had clearly found another book of interest on a higher shelf. He had begun to approach her then. He had intended to help her grab the book. But had been stopped in his tracks by the image of her reaching for the book. Somehow, the motion had pulled her robes tight around her small waist and the curve of her rear, and he had suddenly been filled with any number of ideas as to what they might do in a library alone.) </p><p>Yes, this moment confirmed it, she had most certainly drugged the frilly little cake. He had seen any number of women in similar positions. He had had any number of women in similar positions. There was nothing exceptional about this particular woman. She was in fact shorter than most elvhen found attractive, and her curves were more… Well, he was not going to think about that. It was distracting and he was busy analyzing. Regardless, whoever had chosen her was a mastermind. It had to have been Dirthamen.</p><p>(He had seen the small tendrils of magic she used to inch the book closer to her outstretched hands, had heard the small muffled ‘oof’ she gave as she caught it, breaking whatever spell had kept him frozen in place.) </p><p>(He had begun to approach her again as she opened the book somewhere near the middle, and promptly blushed bright pink. He had stifled a chuckle at that. Her eyes had gone wide and her mouth had formed a small ‘oh’ of surprise. ‘Ah, it was one of those books,’ he had thought to himself. He had felt himself drawn in, closer and closer until he could actually see the text over her shoulder, and she didn’t even seem to notice his presence.)</p><p>(He had read a bit then, noting that the main character was making very clever use of his tongue, when it finally dawned on him.) </p><p>She was a spy. It was the only thing that made sense. The drugged sweet cake, the interest in one of his agents, luring him into the library, the apparent awe at so many books as if they weren’t everywhere in Elvhenan, her literacy when she should have none, the feigned surprise and shock at the smutty book when he knew what he did of Andruil’s household, the seeming ignorance of his proximity, all painted a very clear picture. She was here to draw him in, to figure out his secrets. This was a game he knew how to play, and he played it well. He knew that cake had tasted too good.</p><p>(It was then that he had snapped the book from her with one hand and caged her in with his other. He had chuckled at her squeak of surprise. ‘Oh, she was very good.’ he had thought to himself.) </p><p>(“The Teacher’s Office,” he had read, pitching his voice low and close to her ear. He had wanted her as off balance as she had made him. He had felt her give a little shiver, then had deliberately taken another step forward to reshelve the book. He had wanted her to think she had succeeded. She had gained the attention of the wolf. Now how quickly would she turn on the seduction?)</p><p>(When she hadn’t moved he had grabbed her by the wrist and spun her so that her back was to the shelves, maintaining his proximity to keep her thinking he had been drawn in by her ruse. He had expected her to respond with artful sighs, and soft touches, or protestations of innocence, but instead her eyes had darted about his chest and upwards, almost making it to his eyes before she glanced away, pinning her stare to the floor.)</p><p>(Well then, he had decided, he would give her more to work with. Sliding his free hand towards her hidden pocket he moved as though he had much more intimate intentions, he brought his mouth within a breath of her ear, intending to distract her with the movement. She smelled of herbs, elfroot, dawn lotus, and many others all blending together and luring him in. He had focused himself then and slid his hand into her pocket. He had made quick work of grabbing the book and a few vials, placing them on a padded lounge out of her sight. If he had done his job well enough she wouldn’t have noticed he’d taken the vials as well as the book.)</p><p>(“Da mirae,” he had put as much innuendo into ‘sticky fingers’ as he could, “Do you know the punishment for stealing from Mythal?” he had also lingered on the word ‘punishment’ if she had been sent to seduce him, she would not be able to miss this opening.) </p><p>Whoever had employed her, was clearly working the long game. If they had been after a quick tumble as a distraction, she would have taken the bait then. She hadn’t. That meant her purpose was more long term. Did they mean for him to take a lover, weaken and begin to share his secrets? That had never worked before, though Sylaise had tried numerous times. </p><p>Regardless of their intent, she had clearly been trained exceedingly well. She had appeared genuinely frightened and more than a little aroused, based on her pounding pulse in his wrist and her furious blush. He imagined she would be able to work her way into the affections of many of his ‘less aware’ compatriots. </p><p>(When she had still seemed hesitant, eyes still glued to the floor, he had taken her chin and directed her eyes to his. They were stunning, such a delicate cloud grey, with tiny flecks of jade radiating out from the center.) </p><p>(Her eyes had then gone wider with recognition, as if she had suddenly figured out who he was.) </p><p>He needed to find out what she had put in that cake. If he was still ruminating on a pair of eyes, it was possible the effects were more long term than expected. He reminded himself to look up possible counteragents to mind altering serums.</p><p>(“What should I do with you, Da Mirae?” he had tried then, hinting with his eyes and his voice that he had many ideas about what he would like to do with her. He had watched as her wide eyes darted to his mouth and lingered for a moment. Then her blush had only intensified and her cloud gray eyes darted back up to his as she bit her full bottom lip.)</p><p>Just remembering brought a scowl to his face. She was too good. The innocent, but also beguiling act. As though Andruil had a single elvhen amongst her followers that hadn’t partaken in some form of debauchery. </p><p>Who had trained her? Andruil’s spies often specialised in seduction, but they were more overt. He was still betting on Dirthamen, it was a known fact the man was holding a grudge since his last spy in the wolf’s home had been expelled. He had thought his people above detection.</p><p>(When she hadn’t responded, he tried again, “What is your name, da mirae?” Then he had watched as something dark flitted across her expression. It had been quick, he had almost missed it, in fact.) </p><p>Of all the moments in their interaction, this was the one he had taken for real. Something about her name truly bothered her. He could, he would, use this.</p><p>(She had squared her shoulders and straightened her spine before trying, “An…” a gulp, “An…” he had felt the magic from her vallaslin begin to thrum under his thumb where he still held her chin. ‘A compulsion over a name?’ he had thought to himself.) </p><p>(Her lips had thinned then as she pressed them together and clenched her jaw before trying again, “An-” She had left off more sharply this time flinching away and hissing in pain. “I cannot say.” She had finally finished, her voice a bit rough with emotion.) </p><p>(Then she had pulled away from his hands and stared him straight in the eyes, making no further attempts at hiding. She had practically dared him to ask again. He had seen the trembling in her lower lip, and he had believed her in that moment.)</p><p>If her employer knew enough about what he was doing to pull on his heartstrings with a slave suffering under a geas, then he was already lost. He needed to go over his messages and tighten security. Who knew what he was doing with the servants? None of those he had freed to date would have given him up. Someone must have seen something.</p><p>(He had wondered what reason Andruil would have for laying a geas to avoid speaking a name. Whatever her reasons had been, he had realized he would get no further with this woman tonight. He had released her and sent her on her way.) </p><p>Now, hours later, he questioned himself. Was it more likely that Andruil had a literate kitchen maid who was bold enough to steal books from Mythal, innocent enough to blush at a fairly tame, smutty novel, and devious enough to drug an Evanuris, or that someone had begun to suspect what he was up to and had sent her to infiltrate his organization. </p><p>He thought he had been careful. He was laying his groundwork incredibly slowly. If someone had caught on already, he needed to make changes, lie low, lead them off his trail. </p><p>He still needed more information and the items he had ‘liberated’ from her offered little help. Three vials of various shapes and a stolen book on early elvhen development. </p><p>The vials were the easiest to understand. If one wanted to surreptitiously slip something into a drink, or a frilly cake perhaps, one would want to be able to tell the vials apart by touch.</p><p>The first one was easily identified simply by smell. Elfroot, a bit of something else, but mostly elfroot, this would be for healing. Not a particularly damning bit of evidence. It was likely needed in the kitchens for burns or wounds from sharp cooking knives. Clever thing to have on hand for a servant in the kitchens. It didn’t make her a spy, nor did it exonerate her. </p><p>The second vial was a mix of herbs designed to protect against pregnancy. It rather strongly implied she had been sent to seduce. If she had been, perhaps she was actually a really bad spy and had simply failed in her mission. He strongly doubted that though. None of the other Evanuris were that clumsy. Limited in their thinking perhaps, but not that limited. It could also imply that she truly was Felassan’s woman and they had planned a rendezvous. </p><p>The last was the most interesting. Upon examination he had discovered a really brilliant little bit of potion work. It would give the impression of inebriation with just a few drops. Rendering its victim unconscious within ten minutes or so. The potion master had even included a combination of herbs that would mimic the typical hangover one would experience after a night of revelry. It was ingeniously simple and the most damning evidence he had. No simple servant had the means to acquire a potion of this quality, or reason to use it. He made a note to find out who supplied her.</p><p>That left him with the book she had attempted to steal, a copy of “Stages of Social, Mental and Magical Development in young Elvhen: A 2,000 Year Study”. This book fit absolutely nowhere in the puzzle. What would a spy, or a kitchen maid need with an obscure book on child development. He dismissed the idea of passing coded messages only because the book had come from Mythal’s library. Unless she was Mythal’s spy… No, she had no need of one. He would share with her anything she asked, and she knew it.</p><p>Either she was the very best spy he had ever seen, presenting him with a captivating puzzle he simply couldn’t put down, or he had just terrorized Felassan’s very innocent woman and he would need to deliver an apology come morning. <br/>____ </p><p>Siona - good and sweet<br/>Isene - she who is like fire.<br/>Isenam - dragon of the past<br/>Da mirae - little thief, literally little sticky fingers.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I tried to do a thing with Solas' POV looking back at the events in the library, but formatting didn't carry over. I'm still learning about posting here. I had to put his memories in parentheses. Let me know if it ended up confusing.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Getting Answers and More Questions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Solas investigates the book thief and potential spy. An'da figures out that Solas is the wolf and turns to Felassan for reassurance that he won't turn her in.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>An’da had not slept at all that night. She had stopped briefly on one of the islands of the crystal staircases to catch her breath and compose herself. She was still flushed and her heart was pounding. Whether that was from her rush out of the Great Hall or from her encounter with the newest of the Evanuris, was irrelevant. She needed to regain her composure before someone spotted her. She gulped in a few deep breaths and returned to her trek down the stairs at a more leisurely seeming pace. </p><p>By the time she had made it to her sick room, two hunters had already managed to bloody each other in some sort of brawl. Rogasha had banned them from the feast and sent them back to the hunters’ grove. Luckily they were inebriated enough that she was able to treat them and send them on their way, without worrying that they’d report on her tardiness. </p><p>Treating the steady trickle of hunters that came her way, distracted her most of the rest of the evening. It was well closer to dawn than midnight when she finally closed up the bower, sealing it with her own personal warding.  </p><p>She stumbled up the stairs to her shared room, and made her way quietly to her bed not wanting to wake her roommates. Slipping out of her servants robes she emptied the pockets quietly and used her magic to return the robe to its original shape. Placing the vials on the small table by her bed, she noticed some were missing. She counted again. Then she recounted. There were definitely three missing. The elfroot, and contraceptive vials were easy enough to make more of, but her personal brew, meant for knocking out the more dangerous of the hunters, took months to properly brew. She only had one left, and at the rate she needed it she was going to run out. </p><p>She briefly considered throwing on a shawl and going to look for them now, before a huge jaw- cracking yawn took her over. No, she was too tired. She’d have to look for it in the morning. Searching now would only lead to frustration and passing out somewhere under a tree.</p><p>Removing her tunic and leggings, she threw on her sleeping shift, brushed out her curls and her braids and flopped back into her bed with a sigh. </p><p>Given how tired she felt, she had expected to fall asleep within moments. That was what usually happened when she worked such a long day. But tonight the events of the evening kept replaying themselves in her mind on a never ending loop. Felassan’s note, and him squeezing her hand, the warmth in her chest knowing they were friends again, the little two-step dance with Mythal’s servant in the kitchens, the dawning realization that was how she got so turned around, the magically never ending hallway, the wondrous library, and the intense gaze of the man she’d found there, the fear that he’d report her, all cycled on an endless loop until she passed out sometime near dawn. </p><p>She awoke suddenly just a few hours later from a confusing dream about a Felassan riding a giant drunken wolf, a dragon who sat on a pile of golden books, and Andruil’s cold golden gaze as she set An’da’s vallaslin on fire. </p><p>Figuring there would be no restful sleep for her, she rose and brushed out her hair. She quickly replaced the braids and Verlen’s griffon bead with practiced ease. Then she donned her usual working attire, soft chocolate-colored leather leggings and foot wraps and a forest green homespun tunic. She added her favorite belt with all its little pouches to hold her vials and potions and a rust colored woolen shawl as the morning had a chill about it. </p><p>She stopped through the kitchens to grab a roll and a strip of jerky on her way to retrace her steps and find her missing elixir. She figured she had a few hours before the hungover hunters began waking. She started in her sick room, but everything there was accounted for. She also did a quick check of her felandaris stores, which were sadly low. If she needed to brew her potion from scratch she’d need to procure some. </p><p>She retraced her steps as far as the foot of the crystal stairs and then looked up with trepidation. Her thighs and calves were already aching from climbing them yesterday. She groaned at the idea of climbing them all the way to the top again. Sighing with frustration, because she knew no other way and the elixir was too valuable, she began to trudge up the stairs. </p><p>She would start with the kitchens, the last time she had used the elixir in question had been right before the little dance with that tall servant of Mythal’s, she couldn’t remember his name now, Ise- Ise- something. She could figure it out later. She hoped it had fallen out when they were dancing around each other.  </p><p>She didn’t want to think what would happen if she didn’t find it there. She was steadfastly avoiding thinking of the too long hallway and the stupidly tempting room of books that had kept her from sleeping most of the night. She also refused to think of the man she’d met there, despite the fact that his face kept popping up in her mind. She felt her face flush as his intense blue-grey eyes flashed in her mind once again. </p><p>She continued climbing the stairs, her legs already burning with the effort, cursing the stairs’ length, cursing stupid too handsome elves who muddle senses with their stupid eyes and their stupid too-soft smirking stupid mouths, and their long stupid fingers… and… </p><p>Wait a minute! She froze in place on the stairs. Long fingers slipping into her pocket… He had reached into her pocket to get the book back. He had pulled it out so quickly and what was in his hand was out of sight before she could blink. What if he had taken them?</p><p>He had, hadn’t he? He had hid them behind the book. The stupid infuriating, personal space invading, cocky bastard had taken months worth of her work, and there was nothing she could do to get it back. She gave up and sat down where she was, a quarter of the way up the crystal stairs. </p><p>She would need to harvest more felandaris today and start the new batch, tonight. If things went well and she rationed her remaining supply she might be able to reduce it to only a month that she had to go without. She’d have to warn the rest of the staff, that she was out, and Rogasha. Damn.   </p><p>Maybe if she asked him nicely he would return it. ‘Yes, because he seemed so nice yesterday.’ she thought to herself, ‘Predatory and full of himself is more like it.’ She had to consider that he may want something in exchange for it. In the end it didn’t really matter anyways, as she had no way of finding him and didn’t even know which grove he was staying in. </p><p>She got up and started back down the steps to find one of the locals. Hopefully they could tell her where she might come upon some felandaris. Even better, maybe they might know how to find her unnamed Evanuris. </p><p>And how did she manage to not know the name of a practical god? She knew she was protected, coddled even. Ishanmis, Rogasha, Lahtara, and Fel kept her so well isolated she sometimes thought they believed her to be a child, rather than a being with almost a thousand years behind her. Yes, most of those had been as a spirit, but they still counted.   </p><p>Fel was going to kill her when he found out she was looking for one of the gods. Ishanmis would have been worse, though. She was suddenly grateful he wasn’t here.</p><p>And even if she didn’t have to worry about getting her elixir back, there was still the chance that he’d go to Mythal. What would she do when he told her a servant had put her unclean servanty hands all over her pristine books. Then An’da wouldn’t have to think about any of this, because she was pretty sure they’d just kill her. </p><p>She took a breath. She knew she was overreacting, knew she was tired, knew she was still worked up over what had happened last night and the stupid man with his stupid too-smooth wolf robes and his, shiny wolf... Damn!</p><p>He was the wolf! Of course! The silver wolf beads in his hair, the white wolves on the hem of his collar, the predatory gleam in his eye. Of course the wolf that plagued Felassan was the same wolf she now had to find. Her luck was apparently abysmal. Fel, who had begged her to leave it alone when the wolf cornered him in the grove was now the only person who could tell her how to get her elixir back. Fel, who would kill her if he knew about last night, was now the one person she had to speak to. Lovely.<br/>_____</p><p>Felassan was practically vibrating as he entered the secluded garden at the edge of the hunters’ grove. A small river trickled past and over a short fall, creating a quiet susurration, perfect for keeping conversations private. The walls were covered with trellises and vining flowers in many shades of violet and blue climbed the walls. It was a pretty place, and he was meeting a very pretty man. Keep it together, Fel. He cautioned himself. Solas had never given any indication that his feelings ran that way, but Felassan couldn’t seem to stop his own thoughts from constantly returning to the man. </p><p>When he had awoken this morning his head was blessedly clear, he had feasted and drunk and danced into the wee hours. He suspected An'da had slipped something in his wine. He really ought to have a splitting headache. He had grabbed his things and had meant to go to the baths, when he noticed it. A slip of paper had made its way under his door. It was blank of course, no one sent a message this way without linking its viewing to the intended recipient. When he had picked it up, he had been surprised to hear Solas’ voice asking him to meet in the garden by the outer wall at midday. </p><p>Felassan had been thrilled. </p><p>The other night when he had so foolishly introduced himself to the Evanuris at Andruil’s welcoming feast, he hadn’t realized it might cause questions. He owed the wolf a life, and he had put them all risk over his own infatuation, and lack of self-control. He had regretted it bitterly. </p><p>He had hoped the older man had forgiven him, still had work he could do, that there was even a slight chance that his feelings were returned. He had sent An'da with honey cakes because he had done a little discrete digging and discovered they were his favorites. It was a sign of sorts. ‘I’m sorry,’ of course, but also, ‘I can still gather information you wouldn’t expect me to have.” The message must have hit its mark. This note requesting his presence was proof. </p><p>Now, as he wandered the little garden waiting for the wolf he examined the stone benches and the rocky outcroppings around the edge of the stream. There were several shrubberies that could easily conceal spies. He quickly ascertained that they were empty. </p><p>As he was checking the last of the hidden corners, he heard a quiet cough behind him. Spinning he was surprised to see Solas in elvhen form. Felassan usually only saw the wolf. </p><p>He gave a quick bow and greeted him formally, “Andaran atish’an, hahren.”</p><p>“Aneth ara,” Solas replied, linking his hands behind his back as he strolled over to examine the little river “I meant to thank you for the cakes.”</p><p>Felassan was pleased, but clever enough to know that he wouldn’t risk this meeting to thank him for a tasty treat. “It was no trouble,” and truly it had not been. Gathering information was second nature to him, and the actual acquiring of the cakes had been An'da. </p><p>“I was especially fond of the little, pink, frilly one,” the older man turned to gauge his reaction.</p><p>“I didn’t…” He was confused. Had An'da mistaken his request? “I sent honey cakes,” he clarified, “I had heard you were partial to them.”</p><p>Solas raised an eyebrow, glancing over his shoulder at the younger man, “Oh yes, those arrived too, quite delicious. Thank you.” He seemed to be measuring something, considering. Then he turned back to Felassan. “Perhaps the other was just an extra thoughtful addition by your woman.” </p><p>Felassan sputtered, “Woman...wha? Who? No, I don’t have a…” The idea of him and An'da was laughable. They flirted sure, but she knew he was most often interested in men, and she had never shown an interest in anyone male, female, or otherwise.</p><p>Solas’ turned then, and Felasan felt the full force of the older man’s gaze as said,“I assumed you would not risk holding just anyone’s hand in a banquet hall full of elvhen who could see?” </p><p>Damn it, the man saw everything! He thought he had been discrete, it had barely been a squeeze. He just wanted to assure her that things were right between them. He had hated the distance of the past week. He had to remember that in Arlathan things were different, he was usually much more careful. </p><p>“Don’t be too concerned.” Solas attempted to calm him, “She is safe. I doubt anyone else would have noticed. Though I would caution you to be more careful. She is the one who would pay the price after all, given her station.” Felassan felt pinned to the wall by his gaze. He clearly didn’t believe that there was nothing there, and it seemed he was implying Felassan was doing a poor job of looking out for her. </p><p>Felassan had been about to reply, to explain. This really wasn’t his woman. He didn’t have a woman, didn’t want one, he wanted…</p><p>“Felassan?” he heard An'da calling him from just beyond the garden. Creators curse her, her timing was terrible. “Fel, are you in there?” He turned in time to see her snow white head peek around the corner of the arbor leading to the garden. She gave a noisy sigh of relief at the sight of him. “There you are.” </p><p>An'da had always moved as if she heard music where there was none. Today was no exception. She practically danced her way into the room, but there was a tension to her shoulders he didn’t usually see, as she spun and landed on a bench next to the little river. There was a tightness in her jaw, that wasn’t there yesterday. “This is pretty,” she said, her face giving away her preoccupation as she looked around at the secluded garden. “What are you doing in here?”</p><p>He had thought it would be obvious, but a second glance at the garden revealed that his companion had disappeared. There was only one entrance to the garden and Solas hadn’t gone out while An'da was coming in, so he must still be here. </p><p>“Trying to find some time to myself,” he said pointedly. On one hand he hoped she’d get the hint and go, on the other he was beginning to worry. Something was visibly bothering her.</p><p>She didn’t move, “Oh,” she said, her face falling a little. She made as if to get up, but then sat back down, “Sorry, I just…” he watched as her thoughts flit across her face. He’d spent enough time with her to know that she was starting and discarding many possible ways of approaching whatever it was on her mind. </p><p>He sat down beside her and grabbed her face, making sure she met his eyes, “Spit it out, asa’ma’lin,” he chided her, as he caught a glimpse of white through the shrubbery behind her. ‘So that’s where he’s gone,’ he thought to himself. Well, his use of ‘sister’ would help clear up any questions his hahren had about their relationship.</p><p>She chuckled at that, and shook her head free “Of course, sorry, I…” She hesitated again. “I don’t know how to bring this up. I don’t want to go back to not speaking.” She took in a deep breath, as if steeling herself, “It’s about your wolf…”</p><p>Felassan could make out Solas’ profile more clearly now, and he noted how his eyebrow shot up at being mentioned. He did a quick calculation as to the odds that both of them were here asking about each other. Which is to say, he did no math whatsoever, but his instincts said this was highly suspicious. What had passed between them? Had she gone off to confront him over the other night? ‘Creators, tell me she didn’t!’</p><p>“Is your wolf, the Evanuris? The new one?” she asked. He couldn’t respond, not without giving away his hahren, or all the people that depended on them. She must have noted his hesitation because she continued, “I only ask because… Well, I think he must be. He was wearing all those wolfy things last night and. Well…” She hesitated again. “How well do you know him?”</p><p>Oh for the Creators’ sakes, could she have asked a more awkward question. ‘Not as well as I’d like to’ a very unhelpful voice in his head supplied. The more grounded part of him realized he couldn’t properly answer her question. Luckily she saved him having to answer.</p><p>“How likely is it, do you think…” She gulped then, and he knew he wasn’t going to like whatever she said next. “That he’d turn someone in for something like,” she took in a deep breath and then blurted out, “attempted thievery,” so fast, it took him a moment to process what he’d just heard.</p><p>The minute his brain caught up, he shot to his feet then, “You did NOT!” The anger flashing through him, what was she thinking stealing from the Great Hall. Any one of the Evanuris would have had her vallaslin ignited on the mere suspicion, the actual act could lead to her losing an eye, a finger if she was lucky. </p><p>Her shoulders hunched under his glare and her eyes scrunched up, “Well, technically no. I didn’t. It was attempted,” she squeaked out.</p><p>“THAT is a technicality!” he yelled at her. “What gave you the idea that it would be a good idea to take anything!”</p><p>“It was a book,” she said, as if that explained everything, “a book about the development of elvhen children. Fel, there were 2,000 years of observations in there. Imagine what I could do with that knowledge. You know the families back home would benefit. Besides, I was only going to borrow it. I hadn’t figured out how I was going to get it back yet, but that was the intention.” She sighed then, and squared her shoulders. “And that’s not the point anyhow. I did what I did, you can’t make me feel worse for it. I need to know if he’s going to turn me in. I’ve been summoned to serve tea for him and Andruil and I need to know if I’m going to end up leaving with all my parts.”</p><p>He saw Solas’ profile give a quick negative shake. He hadn’t needed to see it, of course he wouldn’t have turned her in, but it was reassuring all the same. He felt some of the anger leaving him and he sat back down. “No, asa’ma’lin, he won’t turn you in.”</p><p>She jumped on that, “How do you know? I mean, how sure are you? I could dose myself with a preemptive painkiller, and have elfroot on hand…” </p><p>“Stop,” he interrupted, “Just stop. I know. I can’t tell you how I know, but I know. Solas is… He’s not like the other Evanuris. He won’t turn you in.”</p><p>He could see some of the tension drain out of her, “Oh good. Okay. Good. Fine. Keeping fingers. Fingers are good. I like mine.” She continued to reassure herself quietly in a shaky voice.</p><p>Movement behind the shrubbery caught his eye and he noted his mentor was smirking slightly, his eyes fixed on An'da, a slight crinkle about the eye. He was clearly amused. There was something here. Felassan’s intuition was going into overdrive and he did not like the connections it was making.</p><p>“I need to get him a message. Or, rather, I wondered if you could get him a message.” She said, startling his attention back to her. </p><p>“Why?” he asked before he saw another movement behind the shrubbery, a slight nod. He really didn’t like where this was going. His little sister did not need to be caught up in their work. She needed to stay as far from it, and him as possible. He briefly wondered how he could move her to another continent.</p><p>“I think he took some of my elixirs last night. I need them back. Or rather one of them. He can have the other two. Though what he’d do with a woman’s contraceptive potion is beyond me…”</p><p>Felassan saw the profile behind the shrubbery stifle a laugh, lips pressing firmly together. “Asa’ma’lin,” he groaned, putting his face in his hands.  </p><p>“Sorry,” she shook her head, which seemed to clear it, because she was all business as she continued. “You know the potion I use to knock out Mathalin, before he can get his hands on the kitchen staff?” He nodded. “It takes months to brew. I only have one more vial and at the rate I’m having to use it here. We’ll be out for at least a month. Can you imagine the damage he could cause in that time?”</p><p>Felassan grimaced. Mathalin was a great hunter, a good shot with a bow, and a terrible person. Even the thought of the man set his teeth on edge. “I’d rather not.”</p><p>“Exactly.” She knew she’d made her point, “So can you do it?”</p><p>“Yes, I can get a message to him,” he agreed. </p><p>“Thank you!” Her relief was palpable as she jumped up and hugged him. He was encouraged by the smile returning to her face as she turned to examine a purple flower on a trellis. Still, there was a growing part of him that felt he needed to warn her, and the man in the shrubbery, to keep their distance from each other. He was very much hoping that part of him was wrong. </p><p>Telling her to stay away wouldn’t work. She was a slave, she had to go where she was told to go, do what she was told to do. Telling his mentor to leave his baby sister alone wouldn’t work because he was, amongst their people, a god. He could do as he pleased, when he pleased, with who, and how he pleased. Felassan was grateful that Solas was at least an honorable man. And that was when it dawned on him. It was tricky and it may backfire, but…</p><p>“I got word from Ishanmis today,” He said. She perked up, turning on a dime to give him her full attention, just as he knew she would. “He’s still worried about you. He wanted me to check in on you. I guess you saved me the trouble.”</p><p>Her love for his brother was always evident. She credited his protection with keeping her alive her first years at Andruil’s, and it had. She would do anything for him, and it always showed. She glowed at the mere mention of him. It was hero worship mixed with brotherly love, but he hoped his mentor misunderstood her obvious attachment. Maybe then, Solas’ own honor would keep him away, and An'da would stay out of danger, she wasn’t suited for it. </p><p>She laughed to herself, her eyes crinkling up in the corners. “Silly man, I’m fine. He worries too much.” Then, as if realizing what she had just said, in light of her reasons for coming here, she turned and pinned him with a glare, “Don’t you dare tell him about the book!” She leaned over him and pointed her finger into his chest menacingly. </p><p>He laughed then, honest, relieved laughter. She was back to herself, ordering him about and thinking he would comply, despite decades of evidence to the contrary. He made a show of pretending to mull it over a bit. </p><p>“No!” She gasped, her eyes went wide. Plopping down on the bench beside him, she glared again, “I will dose you with something so wickedly evil you’ll never cross me again.” She laughed, then, familiar with their game and confident that he would keep her confidence. Then she leaned her head on his shoulder, her voice softening, becoming more serious. “I’m glad we’re speaking again. I missed you.” </p><p>They sat in companionable silence for a few moments. He watched as the profile in the shrubbery began to show signs of impatience. And then she played into his ruse more beautifully than he could have imagined. </p><p>“You really can’t tell him, though,” she said softly, seriously, “He would hop on the nearest halla and abandon his post. Andruil would have him skinned. I don’t think either of us could take that.”</p><p>He nodded. She was right, Ishanmis would do anything for his family. And Felassan would never put his brother at risk. He kept a careful eye on his mentor in the bushes, silently hoping that he was getting all the wrong ideas. </p><p>“Well that turned morose rather quickly,” he chirped. He couldn’t leave the mood where it had landed, and he had a hahren hiding in the shrubbery. He stood quickly and pulled her to her feet. “Don’t you have some fancy Evanuris tea to prepare?” </p><p>“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she grimaced. Then she turned wide pleading grey eyes to his, “Hide me here in your magic little garden?” He often pretended to fall for it, but not today. Today he needed her to leave. </p><p>“Don’t you remember me saying I was trying to have some alone time?” he reminded her. “You being here sort of defeats the purpose. Go on, away with you.” He made a swishing motion with his arms, clearly dismissing her. </p><p>“Fine,” she said, dancing out the arbor, “I’ll leave you to your alone time.” She managed to make it sound as if he were going to be doing something lewd. A stifled snort came from the shrubbery. He sincerely hoped she hadn’t heard that.<br/>____</p><p>So, the nameless servant was a sister of sorts. He knew the family well and Lahtara had had no daughters. Perhaps he considered her a sister for her closeness to his brother. The young woman had certainly lit up at the sound of Ishanmis’ name. That would explain the closeness between her and Felassan. It would more than explain the hunters’ attitude towards her. He clearly remembered the young hunter’s older brother. A giant of an elvhen, exceedingly honorable, and well known for his prowess in battle and hunting. The others’ would most certainly keep their distance from his woman.</p><p>In fact, listening in to their conversation had cleared up a number of things. He now knew who brewed the potion. ‘She is a master at her craft,’ he thought to himself. He must speak to her about her formula. It also explained what she used it for. Parts of their conversation had hinted at why she wanted the book, he would still like more clarification on that. He also wanted to know how she had come to be literate in Andruil’s household. Enough things still didn’t add up, for him to give away his suspicion so easily.</p><p>He waited behind the shrubbery until Felassan called to him, “You can come out now. She’s gone.”</p><p>Solas left his hiding place, his eyes fixing on his associate. “Ir abelas, it seems I owe you an apology.” </p><p>Felassan appeared confused, “What for?”</p><p>“I falsely assume that you were more intimately connected with her. The thought obviously made you uncomfortable.”</p><p>“Oh,” he coughed, “right, it was definitely an unsettling idea. No offense taken though. We are close, she’s like a sister to me.”</p><p>“Exactly how ‘like’ do you mean?” </p><p>“She is a sister, well, of a sort. I mean I think of her as one, but...” Felasan cleared his throat, changing tack. Perhaps thinking he needed to explain more carefully. “Ishan took responsibility for her when she entered the estate. He actually had to carry her in, she wasn’t well at the time. They grew close, and eventually it was like she was part of the family. She’s trained under Lahtara for the last few decades.” </p><p>Her potion making skill was well accounted for then, Lahtara was certainly well-skilled. Now, why had she been brought to Andruil’s estate in the first place, he wondered. It wasn’t like her to take in someone needing help. In fact Mythal’s daughter was famous for allowing survival of the fittest to rule in her home. </p><p>And where had she come from? If he could track her origins he could be more certain as to her intentions. </p><p>It could be she was an arrow aimed at Andruil and not himself. In which case he’d need to know her purpose before he decided whether or not to let her hit her target. There was no love lost between him and the huntress.</p><p>“How did she enter into service? She does not seem Andruil’s usual sort.” He asked.</p><p>The younger elf snorted, “No, she really isn’t,” he agreed. “I wasn’t on the hunt that day, but the way Ishan tells it, our lady had cornered a Griffon. When a young boy.. fewer than 10 summers, if you can believe it, jumped out of the brush to protect the beast. Apparently An’da came rushing in out of nowhere, claimed the boy as hers and faced down an armed goddess. She actually insulted Andruil’s skill. Ishan thinks that bravery is what garnered my lady’s interest. The huntress laid down the vallaslin then and there &amp; had Ishan carry her back to the estate.”</p><p>Solas shook his head. He didn’t believe it. There were too many fantastical elements. That a young child would not be immediately mauled by a fully grown griffon was only one of the elements he took issue with. </p><p>He settled on bringing up the one that bothered him the most, “The woman I met last night would not have faced down an armed Evanuris. She could barely make eye contact over a stolen book” At least until that final moment. An image of her wide gray eyes flashed through his mind. He dismissed the image as quickly as it came. “In fact, she’d played the meek and compliant servant to a tee.” </p><p>He noted a frown at the word ‘played’ as though the young man couldn’t believe his asa’ma’lin could ‘play’ a role. If she were a spy, Felassan was thoroughly compromised.</p><p>“No, of course not,” the younger elf replied. “She was in the wrong and she knew it. Last night it was about her. Back then, it was her child.” He deliberately placed the emphasis as if the older man could not see the difference. “She has this thing for people who can’t protect themselves, especially children. When she sees someone in danger, she just acts. Ishan is one of the few who can convince her to hold back.” </p><p>“He sees some of your father in her,” It was not a question. Solas had known their father well, he had been a good man, a friend. A friend prone to caring for others more than himself, a friend he missed dearly. He could see why Ishanmis would be drawn to her. Wanting to protect someone so like the father he had lost. The father he could not save. Solas wished, just for a moment, that he could go back and change how things had… But no, wishes would not help the family now, and keeping the circle of confidence small was the only way to avoid further danger. </p><p>Felassan nodded, “Yes, he wants to protect her like he couldn’t protect him” The young man spoke his thoughts aloud. “It drove him crazy that she was coming and he was left behind. I don’t think he slept between hearing she was assigned to the trip and the morning she gave him her oath.” </p><p>Ah, so she had agreed to be bonded, a dangerous choice for both of them. Not many would risk it. If she were a spy, then she was extremely committed. Even the limited bonding magics available to the marked-ones would last a lifetime. They were almost impossible to break without serious damage to the minds of those involved. Clearly Ishanmis felt strongly for her, for the hunter’s sake he hoped she was true.</p><p>He had learned more about his quarry, but every answer led to new questions. What had happened to her child? Where was his father? Where did she come from? What did she know? And most importantly, who did she really serve?</p><p>He had attempted to discover more about her purpose in dreams last night. It had been surprisingly easy to find her, but while her dreams were easy to interpret, they did not give her away or prove her veracity. They had only shown that she feared him, Mythal, and Andruil, that she was aware of a connection between him and Felassan, and that she knew too well the corrective uses of vallaslin. </p><p>He had found he could not stomach watching her suffer the vallaslin’s harsher effects, so he had pushed her out of the dreaming and into wakefulness, frustrated that he had gotten no further in his inquiries. </p><p>This still could all be a ruse to get her into Andruil’s household, or to get her close to an old friend’s family and thus closer to him. But if her handler knew about his ties to the family, they already knew too much. He would need to investigate more later. At the moment he had bigger things to attend to. </p><p>He was about to dismiss the young hunter when he was interrupted.</p><p>“This meeting, it wasn’t only to discuss An’da, was it?” Felassan asked, something seemed caught in the young man’s throat. </p><p>“It was. After my encounter with her last night, I became,” he hesitated, searching for the right word. “Suspicious. Believing her to be your paramour, I felt it imperative to ensure you had not been compromised as an operative. You have cleared up many of my questions, but others remain.” He hoped that satisfied the young man. It was all he was willing to divulge at this time. He reached into the pocket of his robes and handed three small vials to his associate. “I believe these belong to your sister.” Then he nodded, “I must take my leave. I have a pressing engagement.” With that he shifted seamlessly into his lupine form and loped out.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>asa'ma'lin - sister<br/>Andaran atish’an - formal greeting<br/>Aneth ara - informal greeting<br/>Hahren - respected elder, also implies a level of closeness<br/>Ir abelas - My apologies</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Nobody Likes the Tea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which everybody thinks they are very clever and nobody really knows the truth.</p><p>Also known as An'da serves tea, Solas is set up, and Andruil thinks she's sneaky.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Why? Why, why, why, why, why?’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>It seemed to be the only word An’da could manage to think as she bustled about the kitchen preparing the afternoon tea for Andruil and the new Evanuris.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Solas, I think that’s what Fel said. I have to remember his name,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought to herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no real reason that she could see for her to be responsible for serving their tea. She had stayed out of Andruil’s path almost religiously since coming into service. In fact it had come as a shock to her when the huntress called her by ‘name’ last night. She had begun to hope she had been forgotten and had blended in with the nameless mass of underlings wandering about the estate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Too many things had gone wrong last night, Andruil remembering her name, and the wolf, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Solas’</span>
  </em>
  <span> she corrected herself, catching her in the act last night. The idea that both would be together in the same room while she tried to stay calm and composed was more than a little terrifying. She would just have to try to stay as invisible as a pane of glass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Actually that would be a useful spell.</span> <span>She made a note to work on that when she had a few moments alone. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had worked in the kitchens long enough that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span> she remembered everything necessary for an afternoon tea. She vaguely recalled serving one to Andruil and Ghilan’nain, maybe 18 or 20 years back, as Virlen’s assistant. Silvun, the head cook, had happily provided Andruil’s preferred blend of tea. And An’da remembered Felassan sending cakes to the wol-, to Solas, so she grabbed a few of the honey cakes and the frilly pink ones too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silvun had insisted she take one for herself, and since it was never wise to refuse the cook, nevermind that they were her favorites, she politely tasted just one. Even a little taste of the sweet frosting had her closing her eyes and relaxing in bliss. Silvun was a goddess. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes, she would need many of these cakes. Perhaps she could lull both of the Evanuris into a blissful cake-induced stupor and sneak out with them none the wiser. She grabbed a few more. Silvun had also provided charcuterie for the huntress who rarely indulged in sweets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Filling her tray she made her way to Andruil’s receiving chambers. She floated the tray along in front of her, since she believed her magic to be more steady than her feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she walked she reminded herself of Felassan’s words </span>
  <em>
    <span> ‘...but I know. Solas is… He’s not like the other Evanuris. He won’t turn you in.’</span>
  </em>
  <span> The sincerity in his remembered words calmed her somewhat, and gave her the courage to open the door and enter Andruil’s domain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah, the felasil had arrived. Her eyes were appropriately downcast and the tea appeared adequate. Personally Andruil detested the stuff. Give her a strong blood wine over hot plant water anyday. She would, however, endure the tea as it was what the more intellectual of her brethren drank. Solas liked to think himself an intellectual, so very </span>
  <em>
    <span>above</span>
  </em>
  <span> her and her ‘base pursuits’. She would play to his tastes for the day, if it got her what she wanted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In time he would learn that a hunter is more than just a quick shot or a powerful arm. Sometimes a good hunt was patiently stalking your prey and learning their weaknesses for when you were ready to strike.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had been watching him since it became plain he would ascend, assessing his strength and skill, his weaknesses. He thought he was wiser, smoother, more subtle, casually laying traps for each of them to step in. She saw many of them already forming, but not hers. Not yet. Bringing him here would give her a chance to observe him more closely, ferret out what he might have planned for her, begin to put in place her own plans.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had ferreted out every spy sent to him so far, even Dirthamen’s. Though Dirth’s had lasted the longest. Andruil had only sent a few his way, and only the very obvious ones. Enough to let him think he knew what to expect from her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had been watching. He kept few servants and refused to mark those he did keep. Those spies who had made it into his territory all reported that he used no alternative methods of persuasion or compulsion that they could see. His softness to the marked-ones was something she hoped to exploit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had set the stage carefully. Tea, a drink for those who think themselves so clever. A cruelly named serving girl with wide eyes and a timid nature, to play on his sympathies. Would his pride demand he swoop in to save her, or would he recognize Felasil as the bait in the trap? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Early yesterday she had arranged for Isenam, her spy in her mother’s service, to direct the little thing into the wolf’s path after the banquet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, pleased with her own subtlety, she had brought the girl to his attention during the meal. She had been pleasantly surprised by how avidly his eyes had followed her afterwards. She had had no reports of their interactions, but she could imagine his response to the soft little thing ending up where she should not be, but right where he so clearly wanted her. She smiled, pleased with herself. She was greatly looking forward to this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had watched An’da enter, magicking the tray across the lawn and up the stairs of the huntress’ tree. She walked as though she was dancing to a tune he couldn’t quite hear, a soft spring to her step. She seemed to be puzzling over something as she went, nibbling on her full bottom lip as she had in the library the night before. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she climbed the stairs. At the first landing of the staircase she took a deep breath, as one might before tackling a particularly unpleasant task, then she opened the door and whisked the tray inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What was unpleasant for her? He wondered. Did she dislike her mistress, or was it concern at him revealing her actions last night? He had hoped Felassan had calmed her sufficiently. She had seemed in good spirits when she had left the garden. If he made her uncomfortable she would stay on guard and it would be more difficult to ascertain her intentions. Best to put her at ease, he thought to himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knocking softly on the door, he waited to be admitted. The door opened smoothly inwards and he was met with An’da’s wide grey eyes, pert nose, soft full lips… He forced his eyes away, he would be affected. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wait… His eyes snapped back to her mouth. Was that a bit of pink icing at the corner of her mouth? She really was a little thief wasn’t she? He chuckled softly to himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he remembered that she could be beaten or worse for the simple offense. That would not do. Sobering quickly he dipped his head down to catch her eye, then he indicated with a gesture to his own mouth, where she might want to investigate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Judging by the slant of her head and the narrowing of her eyes she did not understand. In fact it momentarily looked as though she questioned his sanity. He meant to simply reach up and wipe off the offending substance then, but his hostess chose that moment to arrive. He let his hand fall to his side, and An’da’s eyes found the floor again with haste. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Solas, welcome,” Andruil practically prowled into the room, “I see Felasil has neglected her duties again and hasn’t invited you in,” she gave a pointed glare at An’da who promptly shuffled backwards and bowed while gesturing him inside. The huntress gave an imperious wave in her direction, “Please ignore the slight, I will deal with </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> later. Come in, you are welcome here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andruil led him out onto a balcony where two comfortable armchairs had been placed with a small table between them. She swept over to the balcony and took a deep breath as she appeared to take in the scenery. “The view is lovely,” she drawled lazily before wrinkling her nose, “but something about the smell of the city is off putting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He joined her at the railing, watching the bustling about of the elvhen throughout the many groves of the palace, and listening to the soft clinking and shuffling sounds of An’da moving about behind them. “Arlathan is a wonder.” He replied, giving nothing away. “But I doubt you asked me here to discuss the relative merits of city versus country life.” He turned and leaned on the railing with a hip. He was not comfortable with someone at his back unobserved, it was simply that, and not a desire to keep the silver haired servant in view. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She quirked an eyebrow at him, “That’s true enough,” She turned to him, mimicked his posture, and asked, “So, it’s to be no time wasted then. Something you and I can agree on. What do you know of the children of the stone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He considered his response. He was aware that they existed. They were reported as short, half-formed, hairy things that spewed forth from holes in the mountains. They had speech, armor, and weapons; those things spoke of at least a culture if not a civilization. Not that they had much reason to be concerned with the creatures. The elvhen had few reasons to venture below the dirt, and the dwarves kept to themselves within the mountains. He had read a few interesting speculative works about them, but nothing of definite value. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have heard they rarely venture out of their underground homes,” he settled on. “They have not chosen to interfere with my mountain territories, so I have chosen to leave them be. Have </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>had dealings with them?” Let her be the expert. Perhaps in her vanity she might give away more information. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have,” she replied as he noticed An’da bringing out a plate of thinly sliced meats and cheeses and placing them on the table before retreating. He brought his attention back to the huntress, “....plaguing my western most territory,” she finished. He mentally chastised himself for losing focus. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Truly? And you would seek my aid in ridding yourself of this ‘plague’?” he asked, confident she would not notice his lapse in concentration. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had no intention of embroiling himself or his people in a violent conflict, but he was willing to let her believe he might. He subtly glanced back at the table, a new plate had been added. It was covered in art artfully arranged cakes, including a few of the sinfully delicious frilly ones from last night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It would be best if he avoided those for now, their effects had been surprising. And now that he thought about it, the icing on the frilly cakes precisely matched the shade of the icing on her mouth when she’d greeted him. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Da mirae,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought to himself with a small private smile. </span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andruil followed his gaze and smiled at him. It was a cold smile and predatory. He felt almost certain he had just given something away. “You look hungry, wolf. Is it the cakes you prefer, or something else?” She asked in a voice that could almost be called a purr. Then she called out to her servant, “Felsil, please bring out the tea, our guest must be thirsty by now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He detested tea, it felt like drinking water from a puddle in which leaves had been allowed to rot. He kept his displeasure to himself as he took a seat in the chair nearest the cakes and his hostess sat across from him. Leaning back in his chair he steepled his fingers and purposefully ignored her previous question. “So what is it you think I can do for you in your plight with the children of the stone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I had been hoping…” her voice cut off suddenly, and her head swiveled menacingly in An’da’s direction. “Felasil,” her voice had gained a threatening edge, “were you given leave to alter our guests beverage?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had felt the small trickle of magic behind him, but had thought little of it. His servants often used as much to warm or chill items to their desired temperatures before serving. That she had to ask permission to use magic seemed draconian to him, but he was not about to argue the issue with his hostess. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My apologies, mistress,” An’da’s timid voice came from somewhere behind his chair. She was just out of his field of vision, but he could imagine her standing there, eyes cast at the floor. Her voice was so different here than it had been in the garden earlier that day. The expressiveness was gone. He found himself wanting to put her at ease. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was until he weighed his hostesses demeanor. She was watchful, almost too watchful, in fact. What was she playing at here? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da stood just behind Solas’ chair. Her eyes cast at the floor, hands clasped in front of her. She had only meant to change his drink to something more to his liking. She’d seen his expression when Andruil had mentioned tea. Something about the tightness in his eyes, or maybe it had been around his mouth. She couldn’t describe it now if she’d been asked, but she could tell, he hated the stuff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d never needed permission to use magic before. In fact learning to use it to precisely heat soups or roasted meats to the right temperature before serving was encouraged. A skill that took training and which she had often employed in her time in the kitchens. Virlen often spoke of cooling water jugs just before serving them to the Huntress and her wife. Not knowing where she had erred, An’da could only apologize and wait for instruction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She could feel Andruil’s eyes slide over her, “Ah, this is why I call her Felasil.” the huntress directed her comments to her guest, “This one often forgets the simplest of instructions. The most basic of rules. My apologies that she’s drawn attention to herself in this way. I assure you it </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> be dealt with.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh shit, she was going to pay for this later, and she didn’t even know what she had done wrong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Truly, I had noticed nothing until you spoke,” his voice, smooth and unruffled, came from the chair in front of her. “Though perhaps there is some reasoning for the girl’s flouting of your edict?”   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I truly doubt it, wolf. When she came to us she could barely speak. Could barely manage a bow. It took her a full minute to clearly say her own name. She is not known for thinking, nor should servants be. She does her job adequately, </span>
  <em>
    <span>most</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the time.” This last was said with a pointed glare at An’da, “But I will humour you, Solas.” An’da felt her mistress’ gaze again as she said, “Come here, Felasil.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da stepped forward between the chairs, eyes still cast at the floor, she felt the stare of both Evanuris now, as they considered her. Creators she wanted to be anywhere else. She willed her traitorous face to remain calm, remain placid. She hoped that for </span>
  <em>
    <span>once</span>
  </em>
  <span> it would obey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever possessed you to use magic in my guest’s presence without my permission?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da had </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> before this day been told that there was a stricture against it, but she didn’t think that contradicting an Evanuris would do her any favors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She cleared her throat nervously, “I had gathered that your guest would not enjoy tea. I thought only to provide something more to his liking, as his enjoyment may aid in your negotiations.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andruil’s throaty laugh was more menacing than humorous, at least to An’da’s ears it was. When she had finished, she addressed her guest, “You see, Solas, she thinks she is helping, when she is only distracting and drawing more attention to herself. I had it on good authority that you were a great connoisseur of teas.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well then, huntress, you have been misinformed, or perhaps intentionally led astray. Tell me, who gave you this knowledge? Surely they intended these negotiations to go poorly. I think you would be interested to know who is working against you? Perhaps you might even be appreciative of a servant who saved you a misstep.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da could kiss the man! She wouldn’t… Obviously! But he’d turned it around on Andruil and made it seem like she had done something useful while the fault lay with whoever had misled the huntress.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will consider this.” Andruil said in a more thoughtful tone, “In the meantime, perhaps we will do away with the tea and imbibe something more pleasing. What would you prefer?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Water will be fine, Andruil. Though, truthfully, I’d prefer to return to our negotiations rather than waste time debating what beverage is served. I’m sure you can agree.” The way he said it, it was not a question.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As you will,” she replied, “Felasil take away the tea, you may return when our guest has left. I will deal with you then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da needed no more encouragement. She bowed deeply, grabbed the tray with the offensive beverage and made her way out as swiftly as possible. She could hear the Evanuris return to their negotiations as she exited. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once on the landing she breathed a sigh of relief, at least that was mostly over. Now there was just the issue of returning and what Andruil had meant by ‘deal with her’. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Felasil - fool<br/>da mirae - little thief </p><p>All elvhen is courtesy of the awesome Fenxshiral and their awesome resource.<br/>Any errors in usage are mine.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Everything hurts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Andruil 'deals with' An'da. It makes everybody upset. Everybody but Andruil, of course, who gets exactly what she wants.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW descriptions of compulsion and torture.  (An'da has a really shitty time this chapter). </p><p>Also, Short chapter... couldn't make cuts work out otherwise. On the up-side that should mean another long chapter very soon.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Negotiations had proceeded much as Solas had expected. The huntress had been after his military support in an attempt to run the Children of the Stone off of her lands. She believed if they went to the assembled Evanuris together, the others would also aid in removing them. Together they were a larger force to be reckoned with and they would all benefit greatly.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had politely declined, making it an issue of tactics and strategic unknowns, rather than a lack of desire to support her. She had counter offered by asking for his assistance in plotting the attack and a small force to support a lesser offensive, rather than an all out invasion. He agreed he would consider the matter and let slip his interest in exploring her territories more extensively, implying that there were rare herbs and spices that he wished to procure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had caught on to his hinting and suggested that he visit the healer’s bower to see what ‘bounty’ her lands possessed. Perhaps if her lands could provide for his needs a trade could be arranged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had agreed to consider it. Though he had no intention of giving in to her requests, a war with the Children of the Stone was unnecessary and ill advised; and he had a growing desire to conclude these negotiations swiftly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had finished with polite goodbyes and all the necessary pleasantries, before he was finally able to be on his way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An’da had returned the tea directly to the kitchens and then had retraced her steps so that she could be ready to clear the dishes from the receiving rooms quickly and efficiently. Hopefully she could get in and out before Andruil remembered that she had meant to ‘deal with’ her. An’da had treated others who had been ‘dealt with’. She was hoping the huntress would see her dedication and choose to be lenient.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da was leaning against the rough bark of the spruce when the voices inside grew louder through the door, a sign they were nearing the entrance. The rooms were enchanted so that no spy could eavesdrop, even from the balconies. The warding let out just enough sound that she knew they were approaching. She straightened her spine and cast her eyes to the floor. Hands clasped in front of her. She didn’t want to be seen lounging about in a ‘lazy’ position, it was key now to be the model servant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door opened and Solas stepped out onto the landing. The tall elvhen man closed the door behind himself and stepped to the edge of the railing, rolling his shoulders and letting loose a deep sigh as the tension bled from the line of his shoulders. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘So he wanted to escape too.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought to herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He seemed unaware of her presence, so she stayed silent against the spruce near the door, silently waiting for him to clear the landing so she could enter without attracting attention, or accidentally knocking him over the railing. Given the events of the last 24 hours she could believe her luck would be that bad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have icing on your bottom lip, right corner,” he said without turning. She jumped, startled out of her troubled thoughts. Then, when his words registered, she surreptitiously wiped at her mouth. Sure enough she felt it. Had that been there the whole time? </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> why he had been tapping his lip when he entered earlier! Oh, no! What if Andruil had caught it? Eating the cakes meant for a guest… she didn’t want to think about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she said softly. Licking her lips to be sure she’d gotten the rest of it. A quick glance up revealed that she was the subject of intense scrutiny. His eyes a fierce blue-grey that seemed fixated on her mouth. He was probably disgusted that she had dared to eat from their tray. She could see him wondering how badly his meal had been tainted. She quickly cast her eyes back to the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned to go, then stopped suddenly, just as he was passing her, his bicep just a hairsbreadth from her face, if she were to look up, which she absolutely would not do. She still remembered the last time they’d made eye-contact. He spoke, then, as if something had just occurred to him, “Where do you get them?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da cast about for his meaning, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Them, um... the books? No, he </span>
  </em>
  <span>really</span>
  <em>
    <span> knows where I got those. My potion-’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The frilly cakes,” he added for clarity, interrupting her thoughts when her confusion must have been plain. She could feel his scrutiny, but refused to look up. She didn’t know why the cakes mattered, but he was an Evanuris and had asked a question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Silvun, in Andruil’s kitchens.”She was very proud of herself for not stuttering, or clamming up under his gaze. “She makes them for the staff and their children on name days, or for honored guests.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Creators stop me from speaking, I just equated the staff’s children to an Evanuris! This is where he knocks </span>
  </em>
  <span>me</span>
  <em>
    <span> off the balcony.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” he said, with a surprising lack of affront. He even seemed relieved at her admission, if his voice was anything to go by. “Then I must go speak to this, Silvun.” With that he turned and started down the stairs with a determined stride.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Oh, Silvun, I’m so sorry!’</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought to herself. There was simply no time or way to warn her about the wolf coming her way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da returned to the task at hand and let herself in, hoping to collect the dishes and clean up quickly without having to interact with her mistress. As was true with most things in the past few days, what she hoped for and what was, were exceedingly different.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seeing the main room empty, she looked through the sheer billowing white curtains obscuring the balcony. She couldn’t see anyone present at the moment. Thinking herself alone, An’da made a beeline for the plates, ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Just two plates,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought to herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Grab them and go.’</span>
  </em>
  <span> Stepping past the curtain she made to reach for the plates when a polite yet menacing cough behind her had her spinning in place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was outside the sheer curtains now and it was dim inside. She could barely make out the form stalking towards her, it almost seemed to glow with a bluish haze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahh, Felasil, we need to talk, you and I.” An’da froze solid. The way Andruil said, talk, like it was a coiled and hungry snake, had her blood chilling in her veins. The plate in her hand cooled by a few degrees, an unexpected magical result of her fear. “No need to stop, little one. You can go about your duties, but you </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> listen as you do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da’s vallaslin began to thrum under her skin. It was a distinctly uncomfortable feeling and she knew it boded ill. Other sounds began to fall away, but the sound of the huntress’ breathing seemed magnified. Her hand shook as she picked up the second plate and stepped around the curtain back into the receiving room proper. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Last night you brought cakes to my guest,” it was not a question. “Today you chose to alter his drink, to make it more to </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> liking. Do you imagine that you serve</span>
  <em>
    <span> him</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” she asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, mistress,” keeping her head down, she thought about Felassan’s note, the one directing her to bring cakes. She would never give him up, not for a moment. What if Andruil commanded it through the vallaslin? Could she resist that? She would have to try.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No? Then why did you do it, little mouse?” her voice was deceptively soft. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da most certainly felt like a mouse at the moment, one being eyed by a hungry hawk. “I only thought that any small kindness to your adversary.... in negotiations... it might lead him to letting his guard down. Maybe he would give in more easily to your requests.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andruil gave a slight mirthless chuckle, “You imagine that my whole intent was to negotiate with him. You imagine that I did not know precisely what I was doing? You imagine you could correct </span>
  <em>
    <span>me,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the thrum in her vallaslin had picked up now and her hands began to shake violently, the plates jangling together. An’da tried to still them but the buzzing under her skin was impossible to ignore. “I am your mistress.” Andruil’s voice was growing in volume both in her mind and in the room, “I am your goddess. You will presume </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> in my presence!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da shrieked then, the scream torn from her throat as the vallaslin across her back ignited in what felt like flames under her skin. She felt the impossible heat searing along the lines, curling over her back, and driving her to her knees, the plates clattering to the floor, their contents forgotten in her agony. And then, just like that, it was gone. She was left sweating and gasping on her knees, her head on the floor, her back raw. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andruil continued then, “I suspect that was enough of a lesson for </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But you see, it’s not you I’m concerned about.” An’da noted, through her gasping breaths, that her vallaslin were still thrumming. “I don’t think my friend, the wolf, has heard enough yet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, it was as if a hundred knives were slicing across the markings on her torso. Pain erupted and An’da’s back arched painfully, flopping her onto her side as another impossible scream was ripped from her lungs. She could feel each and every mark, its thickness, its depth, they all felt as though they were being carved off of her flesh. And then, just like before it was gone in a moment. She was left sobbing curled on her side, her back still raw and sweat dripping from her pores. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oooh,” The huntress said, her face coming into view. “I may have overdid it a little there.” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand, indicating a line along An’da’s hip where a line of blood was seeping into her tunic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you think my wolf has heard enough?” Andruil asked, not truly expecting a reply. “I weakened the warding on the door. Just in case you were quiet, but you’re putting on an excellent show. Kudos to you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes, she was good at screaming when in pain, clearly she should be rewarded. Perhaps with leaving this chamber, maybe now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think just one more little demonstration, and you should be on your way.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘No, no, please no,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> An’da thought to herself, wise enough not to beg out loud. A whimper escaped her before she could stop it and then she was convulsing on the floor, groaning in agony as the vallaslin on her legs gave off undulating waves of electricity, burning across her skin, causing her legs to spasm uncontrollably, leaving her body trembling and her mind numb. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I doubt he heard that one.” Andruil said, shaking her head, “Try again.” The vallaslin on An’da’s face hummed and it felt as though a sharp spike was sent straight through her temple. An’da howled in pain, eyes rolling back in her head. Her vision went hazy and dim, small lights hovered at the edge of her vision.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>better.” One of the huntresses bare feet stepped into view. An’da’s vallaslin continued to thrum, “from this point forward you will remember every word the wolf speaks to you, as elf or beast. You will take note of every face he speaks to and their responses. You will not recall that I have asked this until I call you to me in private. Then you will report each word spoken, every tone and mannerism. You will forget these instructions each time I leave your presence.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da felt the geas settle into her skin wrapping around her mind as the vallaslin slowly reverted to normal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pick those up.” The huntress said, kicking at the silver plates. “You’ve made a mess.” Then she receded from view and An’da heard the door to the private stairwell close.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Good Friends Make Everything Better</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Solas sends for help. Rogasha helps An'da through the night.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW... An'da's still hurting, bits with post trauma mental state and healing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Solas made his way down the stairs slowly. He was concerned about what the serving girl was stepping into, but he knew his intervention would only make things worse for her in the end. He had seen it all too often in his early days. Back when he had recently taken a body he had objected to Elgar’nan’s treatment of his people, one pleasure slave in particular. The consequences had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>severe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His intent had been to head to the kitchens to speak with this Silvun, maker of dangerous cakes. He hadn’t been prepared for the shriek that tore through the air moments later, stopping him in his tracks. His hand gripped the bannister, knuckles white. It took all his will to force himself to keep moving forward. There was nothing to do here. It was quick, it was over, and she would be well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was almost to the foot of the stairs when a second scream split through the silence of the grove. His hands clenched at his sides so tightly he felt his nails cut into his palms. He reminded himself that she was likely a spy, a trap, perhaps a very good actress. This could be nothing. He would check on her in the dreaming tonight and offer healing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time passed, with him frozen a step away from the ground. There had been silence from the room above. It was finished. She would be well and he would do his best to ensure this never happened again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He only got three more steps before a heart-rending howl had him fade-stepping to the balcony. His hand on the door, ready to open it, when an image flashed before his mind. {Chocolate colored hair spilled across his bed, wide staring sightless eyes and a note, laid carelessly across her chest </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I believed you thought I dealt poorly with this one? Perhaps this is more to your liking?’</span>
  </em>
  <span>} He had gotten that woman killed, he would not do the same to this one. His hand flew off the latch as though it were on fire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He fade-stepped then, straight to a shaded nook below a nearby staircase, where he could watch her emerge unobserved. If she was a spy and this was a convincing bit of theatre, he would be able to tell. If not. If not, then he had just sat by while one of the people had been tortured for either some ridiculous draconian rule, or to bait him. If it was the latter he could not let the trap spring shut, too many were counting on the work he did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took a surprisingly long time for the door to open. When it did, and her familiar pale hair came into view, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He knew it hadn’t been an act. The way the plates trembled in her hands, her eyes staring at some unfixed point in front of her, her usually creamy white skin gone ashen, thick curls set free from her previously tidy bun at the nape of her neck. He felt it viscerally, his heart falling into his stomach. When she stumbled on the stairs he had been a breath away from fade-stepping to her side, but he had caught a glimmer of movement from the balcony above. Andruil was watching her descent, he couldn’t intervene.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was painful watching her make her way across the grass towards the kitchens with trembling limbs and a vacant expression. The moment Andruil turned her back, he wrapped shadows and light around himself, becoming invisible. Then he fade-stepped towards the sounds of clanging swords and bow-strings twanging, hoping this was where he would find Felassan. He couldn’t be seen intervening himself, but he’d be damned if he didn’t get her some assistance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The young hunter was leaning against a tree outside a cleared circle in which two other hunters were wrestling. Dozens of other hunters were placing bets on the outcome, spirits of strength and competition hovering nearby. A great deal of cheering and shouting accompanied the match, but Felassan was silent at the back of the crowd, a mischievous smile at the corner of his mouth. The wolf didn’t care what trickery he was up to, the younger man’s plans would have to be abandoned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Confident that his invisibility spell would hold, he strode up behind Felassan and whispered in his ear, “Your sister needs healing,” adding an urgent, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“now!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> when the young man didn’t move fast enough for his liking. Felassan was up and striding across the field in a flash and something in Solas’ chest unclenched just a little.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Confident that she would get </span>
  <em>
    <span>discrete</span>
  </em>
  <span> assistance, there was nothing else he could do. He would have to return to the rest of his tasks for the day, lest Andruil see him and think he cared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>____An'da____ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t know how long she lay there on the floor trying to collect herself. She did know that she managed to get to her knees at some point, and pick up the plates. The cakes that had fallen on the floor, she collected with shaking hands. When her mind was too fogged to call her magic, she used her shawl to mop the icing off the smooth stone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow she made it to her feet. Her legs felt unsteady, weak, and rubbery. She was uncertain how she would make it down the stairs, but she couldn’t stay here. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>stay here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She made her shaky legs carry her to the door, then through it. She stumbled a bit on the stairs, catching herself on her forearm, and wincing as her side came in contact with the railing. Looking down she distantly noticed another thin line of blood seeping through her tunic. She made a note to do something about that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t remember how she made it back to the kitchen, or from there to her sick room. She did remember her hands were still shaking as she dropped the wards protecting her bower. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Shock.’</span>
  </em>
  <span> her brain told her, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Lay patient down, if possible. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not possible, continue. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Keep patient still. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not possible, continue. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Keep patient warm.’ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grabbed a blanket and wrapped it about her shoulders, hissing out a breath as it put pressure on her burnt back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Next. Loosen restrictive clothing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not possible here, continue. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Treat other injuries.’</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She selected the jars and vials she would need to treat herself then shakily raised the wards again, surprised when her magic obeyed. It was crudely done, and she did not imagine they would hold against much, but they were the best she could do at the moment.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was hazy on how she got back to her room, but her legs carried her there all the same. It wasn’t until her jars and vials were placed neatly on her bed, and she saw that her roommates were not present that she fell to the floor, her forehead resting on the mattress in front of her as great wracking sobs escaped her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>______Rogasha_____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rogasha heard An’da before she saw her. The sobs coming from her friend’s room were heartwrenching. She took the last of the stairs two at a time and rushed into the room. An’da was across the space, next to the bed by the balcony. She was kneeling on the floor, her head resting on the mattress in front of her, its surface scattered with a handful of vials and jars. Her sobs shook her small shoulders violently and she didn’t appear to have heard the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An’da?,” she said softly, not wanting to startle her friend, but still wanting to warn her there was someone behind her. Regardless of Roga's intentions, An’da was visibly startled, her shoulders stiffening for a moment, before she lifted her head and started furiously wiping away tears, clearly trying to muffle the sobs and having little luck. “Hey there love, shhh.” She wanted her friend to know she wasn’t alone.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rogasha came and sat on the floor next to her, and tried to gather her into her arms, but An’da hissed and stiffened, stifling a whimper. The older elf</span>
  <span> immediately withdrew her arm. “Damn,” she whispered under her breath, her mouth forming a grim line as she suddenly understood the reason for her friend’s tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s… it’s fine,” the younger elf tried through her tears, when clearly it was anything but. Her wide grey eyes met Rogasha’s for the first time since she’d entered. They were red rimmed and glassy, but she was seeing clearly. She took that as a good sign, her young friend had always been tougher than she looked. Maybe not tough physically, but inside there was a will of iron when she needed it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, love. No, it’s not fine, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> will be.” She put as much of her certainty into her voice as she could muster. Her friend had to know this would pass, and it would. She wouldn’t be the same as before, but it would pass. She ran her hand across her friend’s hair soothingly, while she tried to master her own emotions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I- I-” whatever she had been about to say was interrupted by an involuntary sob, followed by a shuddering breath and a sniffle. “I got the ointments and elfroot, and something to help me sleep. I know there’s to be,” she shuddered again but this time kept the sob from escaping, “no magical healing, but I always use these on the ones who come out of- of-,” and she lost again whatever semblance of control she had been gaining as more tears spilled down her face.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rogasha waited while the younger elf’s tears slowly petered out. “Come on, up with you,” Rogasha said, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” She brought over a rag for An’da to wipe her face with and took the blanket from her shoulders as carefully as she could grimacing when the younger woman winced and hissed with obvious pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine Roga, really,” An’da stuttered to a halt at the older woman’s raised eyebrow, “No, I don’t mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> fine, I- I mean, the marks, my skin, it will be fine, soon.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’re right enough about that,” she replied, helping her friend remove her shirt so that she could get a look at the damage, her lips thinning as she took in the red raw skin around the edges of the marks on An’da’s back. She turned her head and masked her expression before the healer could see. “Okay, which one of these for the back?” she said, gesturing at the assorted jars and vials. Her friend needed her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>____An'da____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The green one, the jar, not the vial.” An’da replied as she turned her back to her friend, perching delicately on the edge of the mattress, the backs of her thighs were still raw as well, but she didn’t want Rogasha to worry too much. The hunter had a lot on her plate, and if her concentration was divided when…. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oooh, that’s goood,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>she lost her train of thought as the soothing ointment was rubbed into her burnt skin, and she felt herself shudder as the tension left her neck and back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The vallaslin, were an incredibly effective tool in that they provided a direct link between the Evanuris in control and the marked one. They allowed the master to place compulsions with ease. They also allowed for punishments to inflict maximum pain with minimal, lasting, physical damage. One wouldn’t want one’s servants unable to serve breakfast, just because they had had to be reprimanded the night before. As a result, the sensation that would normally result in second or third degree burns, would only leave topical damage, the affected servant could be treated with creams or ointments, and they would heal in a few days.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It helped An’da to think of this clinically. She had seen and treated many in her current condition. She knew the physical wounds would be completely healed within the week, and she’d only be uncomfortable for two or three days. With her ointments, she could often reduce that to just a day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was the psychological reaction that concerned her. Many became fearful or anxious, jumping at the slightest sounds. One of the older servants at Andruil’s estate had simply given up interacting with anyone unless his duty demanded it.  He walked like the living dead, carrying out orders, and nothing more. Though his markings had been activated many times over the centuries. Some walked away, seemingly unfazed only to be found hanging from their bunks months later. An’da wondered how it would affect her. She tried to remember that some were not drastically changed and that she had more support than most and this was only her first infraction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>She was so grateful for her friend's presence right now. Roga was calmly chatting<span> away about her latest message from Ishanmis, about how the hunters were driving her to distraction, a young hunter that was enamoured with one of Sylaise’s people and the resulting drama last night. All normal mundane things, things An'da didn't need to hear, but things that could distract her, keep her mind here. They were all part of a constant reassuring reminding her that her friend was here. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, suddenly she patted An’da’s arm gently, “Okay, all done here. What do we do next?” Rogasha wiped her hands on a cloth from a wash stand and capped the jar placing it on the floor next to An’da’s bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Roga. It already feels a thousand times better.” She turned to smile back at her friend. She couldn't imagine what this would be like without her soothing conversation, and no-nonsense approach. "Really, you've done enough." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An'da intended to clean up the rest on her own, so as not to worry her companion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I didn't ask if I'd done enough," Rogasha's voice was steel, kind steel, but steel nonetheless. "I asked what's next."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, just two little cuts up here, and one on my hip,” She didn’t want to let on to how her legs were feeling right now. “I can take care of those.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes you could, if I let you. Which I won’t,” the older woman smirked at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da chuckled gently to herself, Roga could never be argued out of a course of action once she’d decided it was necessary. “Fine, fine,” An’da stood, trying to hide a grimace as her leather leggings rubbed against the raw skin on her legs. Her friend grabbed a towel and laid it across An’da’s bed so that she could lay back without covering the sheets in burn ointment. Grateful for her friend’s thoughtfulness, she carefully lay down, trying to hide the discomfort at moving her thighs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>____Rogasha____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The legs too?” Rogasha asked, vaguely amused that the younger woman thought she could get away with hiding anything, as if every thought hadn't been written plainly across her face for the last 50 years and more. </span>
  <span>“Can I ask what happened? It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me. It just sometimes helps to talk.” She’d been in Andruil’s household for over 1200 years, she hadn’t seen anything like this since before Ghilan’nain. She was struggling to see what </span>
  <em>
    <span>An’da</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all people had done to deserve this. It didn’t make sense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rarely did fire blister the vallaslin, and she’d counted more than half a dozen blisters on An’da’s back. She’d not seen skin actually split when blades were conjured through the link, not ever. She kept the concern from her voice. Let her friend draw comfort from her certainty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, I was called in to serve tea for her and the wolf, Solas.” Rogasha was familiar with the newest of the Evanuris. He had been a friend of Ishan’s father before he passed. The wolf had been a cocky thing, so certain he was always the cleverest in the room, it didn’t help that he often was. Ishan’s father had thought much of the man and his potential. He had seemed principled at the time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But what had An’da been doing there. There was not a single reason she could think of for a healer to be serving </span>
  <em>
    <span>tea</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There had been three girls sitting on a bench in the kitchens when she went through two hours ago. Anyone of them would have been better qualified, than An’da</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She made quick work of cleaning the two small slices on the younger elf’s ribs while she spoke. “Okay, which hip?” An’da unlaced her leggings and pulled down the hem by her right hip where a wide red slash had been opened up. Rogasha stood quickly and walked over to the wash basin to try to hide her reaction, she wasn’t sure she had hidden her shock in time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This shouldn’t have happened. Andruil would have had to have overloaded the markings to cause this damage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rage could do this, but there was no part of her that could imagine her friend causing that kind of a reaction. The huntress’ anger usually burned cold and calculating, and anything An’da would have done would normally have been beneath her notice. Short of finding her standing over Ghilan’nain’s body, there wasn’t a reason she could see for this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tea, hmm,” Rogsha tried to keep her voice neutral as she wet a new rag, “that’s odd.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought so too, but it’s not like I could have refused.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her face composed, Rogasha returned to her friend with a fresh rag and began gently cleansing the wound. “True,” she agreed, then left space for An'da to continue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When she mentioned tea, he made this </span>
  <em>
    <span>face</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was only for a second, I doubt she saw it. The void take me, now I even doubt <em>I</em> saw it, but it was the same sort of face Ishan gets when anyone mentions nugs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rogasha chuckled at that, her beloved hated the little squeaking things, detested them in a way she hadn’t thought possible for such innocuous little creatures.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, exactly,” her friend continued, “I'd heard things about negotiations between Elgar’nan and Falon’din in the kitchens. I didn’t want him to throw the tea off the balcony, or me, or refuse her in the negotiations simply for the offense of serving the wrong beverage. I didn’t think I had time to get to the kitchens and get something else, so I used my magic to strain the plant oils out of the water and chilled it, since the day was hot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So far nothing An’da had said was out of the ordinary. Nothing that would have led to the gouge she was currently applying a healing salve to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She was angry that I used magic without asking permission, said she’d deal with it later. He asked for my reasons, and I explained as well as I could. In the end she said she’d deal with me later and ordered me to leave.” An’da finished and looked down at her hip, “Thank you, it feels better already.” She made a move to sit up and swift grimace passed over her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, now the legs,” Rogasha said,. An’da’s eyes went wide. “You’re not fooling anyone,” she continued, “off with the pants.” At the younger woman’s defeated sigh, she recapped the jar and placed it with the other one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da slowly swung her legs off the bed and stood with her back to her friend, slipping on a loose sleeping tunic and peeling the leather leggings off as gently as she could. Rogasha bit her lip to keep from hissing in sympathy. Nope, nothing this severe had anything to do with An’da’s actions. She needed to find out it’s cause and get it taken care of immediately. This could not be repeated.  Perhaps between the two of them, she and Felassan could get An'da re-assigned, sent back to the estate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Raised red welts spiderwebbed from her upper thighs, wrapping around and down to her ankles, sometimes crossing the darkened vallaslin, sometimes following them like a river bed. She reached for the burn cream again as her friend settled back on the bed, knees up to keep the raw skin from touching the sheets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anyhow,” An’da continued, “When I went back she confronted me, said it wasn’t my place to think or make decisions, that I served her and not her guests. Then the vallaslin started humming. It was stronger than I’ve ever felt before. I couldn’t keep my hands steady and dropped food all over the floor. Then, well,” She gestured at her general condition, “this happened.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you thought to get your healing supplies,” Rogasha complimented her, wanting to distract her from the events of the day. “I’m not sure I would have had the presence of mind to do so. When I heard you needed help, I came. I didn’t even consider stopping by the bower.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>____An'da____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An’da chuckled to herself. Her friend was a terrible liar. The older huntress was prepared for everything and anything at a moment's notice. Roga was complimenting her to make her feel better, more able to weather this. And she did feel better, but it wasn’t because of false compliments, it was because of her friend’s presence and care. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The older woman thought she’d been hiding her reactions, but An’da knew her too well. She was worried. They’d clearly both come to she same conclusion, this level of damage was not normal, not for spilling some plates or trying to fix a tea. The Evanuris were known for being capricious, but this was a new level for Andruil. An’da knew the huntress had singled her out, she hadn’t yet figured out why but she would. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thinking her friend needed distracting as well, she brought up a new topic, “It’s a good thing you were the one to come, I’ve been meaning to talk with you about the hunters.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If it’s about their behavior getting out of hand, believe me, I am aware. I just needed to get them past the opening celebrations before I could get them back to a training schedule. Thank you for being so responsive with your ‘herbs’. Mathalin and a few of the others are starting to believe that the liquor in Arlathan is triple strength.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two shared a chuckle at that before An’da responded with obvious relief, “Thank goodness. I was going to ask you to do something. I lost one of my vials last night, by the time I brew more we may have to go a month without, but if they’re too tired to get up to no good, we may just make it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You lost a vial?” Rogasha’s eyebrows practically lifted off her face, as she absentmindedly moved to the otherside of the bed to begin work on An’da’s other leg. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she paused for effect and pointed at An’da, “are notoriously careful about those. What happened to you? Did you meet a handsome servant in the kitchens who kissed you blind?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da knew her friend was joking, she had never shown the slightest interest in romance, yet a set of piercing blue-grey eyes, a freckled nose, and a smirking mouth came to mind. She knew she blushed scarlet before she was able to banish his face from her mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Creators! I was joking, but look at you! Someone did, someone caught your interest…” Rogasha hated the thought of her friend taking risks, but the thought of her happy and in love was encouraging. The healer needed someone of her own. “You have to tell me about him, or her, or whoever.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s not, I wasn’t...Ok, first there was no kissing. Secondly, I’m not interested in anyone. Someone just got into my personal space and I was surprised. That’s all. It was an…” She tried to think of the best way to describe the way her body and mind had been at odds in their responses to the Evanuris in the library, “unexpected experience.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her friend had finished applying the soothing cream to the remainder of the burns and was recapping the jar. “Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>personal space,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she laughed, “Sure, that’s all?” she taunted, “It must have been very </span>
  <em>
    <span>unexpected</span>
  </em>
  <span> if </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> lost a potion that potent.” Rogasha sat down next to her, “you know you're obligated to tell me if this becomes more than just an </span>
  <em>
    <span>unexpected</span>
  </em>
  <span> moment. As your sister it is required.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da laughed back at her, it felt good to laugh with her friend, even if it was at her own confusion. Her tears spent, her wounds soothed for the time being, and laughter with a friend warming her heart, she suddenly felt extremely drowsy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve had a long day,” her friend said, pulling her sheets up over her and tucking her in like she was a child. “You look exhausted. I’ll just clean up here, love. You sleep.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An'da reached out and grabbed the older woman’s hand, “Roga, thanks… Thank you, this… this could have been a lot worse. You made it... less overwhelming. Thank you, I…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her friend squeezed her hand then, “You’ve done the same for me more times than I can count, and Ishan, and Felassan, and more than half of the hunters and staff. There’s no need for thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Too tired to argue, An’da settled back against the pillow, her eyelids heavy as she watched her friend collect the jars and little vials off the floor and place them on the nightstand. Her eyes drifted shut and she fell softly into the fade.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Was awkward working out the two points of view going back and forth for Rogasha and An'da. Did the best I could with breaks. Let me know if anything was confusing and I can try to fix it up. </p><p>Thanks for reading :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Just Checking In</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Solas can't stop thinking about An'da. Eventually he goes to check on her in the fade.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Solas was tired. It had been a long day. It had improved marginally after securing Felassan’s help for An’da. He had spent the remainder of the afternoon with Mythal, discussing art and poetry. He had missed their conversations since he had moved to his own territory in the Frostbacks. She had only commented once on his distracted air. He had dismissed it as a troubling encounter with June earlier in the day. She had let it go, and he had given thanks for old friends who did not pry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately after his reprieve with Mythal, Isene had located him. He’d been invited to her estate just outside the palace, and due to his plans for her southern estate, he’d not been able to decline. She needed to believe him biddable. He’d spent a rather uncomfortable evening dining with her, where she wore entirely too little clothing and made it clear that he only needed to say the word for the rest of it to find the floor. He’d not said the word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And why hadn’t he? That troubled him on his walk home. Any other day and he would have taken whatever pleasure she offered. He knew her to be a skilled lover, he would have enjoyed himself. It would have distracted him from the repetitious thoughts circling his mind. Instead he had returned to his estates, claiming an early morning engagement, that they both knew was a lie. What had possessed him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Returning to his grove and his suites at the center, he readied himself for bed while pondering what he’d learned today. His mysterious… no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Andruil’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> mysterious snow-haired servant girl clouded his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>During their lunch, he had realized that there was no way she could have found Mythal’s private hallway without help. It was warded so that only her servants could open the door. How he had forgotten was only a testament to how she was addling his brain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He also knew the story of her ‘acquisition’ by Andruil had to have been staged. He didn’t doubt that Ishanmis had seen what he reported, he was an honorable young man, almost to a fault. If the hunter was trustworthy, then what he saw was a lie. Whether the show was put on for his benefit or for Andruil’s was still to be determined.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there was the woman herself, nothing about her screamed spy, she wasn’t exceptionally sultry, or classically beautiful in the style preferred by the elvhen of Arlathan. She was much too short where height was preferred, much too pale where vivid eyes and vibrant hair were favored, much too curvy where long lean lines were the ideal. She didn’t attempt to seduce, she attempted to hide, to blend in, but she didn’t…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind flashed to the glimpse he had seen of her in the garden as she’d danced out, taunting Felassan with a cheeky grin that said she was more than capable of getting into trouble. A new image flashed before his mind’s eye, this one of her raising her eyes to his in the library, defiant, daring him to ask her name again. A third flash, one eyebrow raised and a wry twist to her frosting speckled lip as he tapped his own meaningfully at her, looking for all the world like she thought him odd and perhaps not quite balanced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could be quite expressive in the moments when she forgot to be a servant; or were those the moments when she remembered her role, doing her best to peak his interest. Perhaps it was all the role, knowing the contradictions would entice him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andruil had clearly staged the tea incident. He had not hidden his dislike for the foul substance and no one would have ‘informed’ her otherwise. She also used her spiteful moniker for the young woman far too often. Typically she ignored the staff as much as any other Evanuris. The huntress had wanted him to see her being cruel to the servants. It was well known he had unconventional views on the subject of servitude. Had she wanted to get a rise out of him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, it wasn’t any servant. It was this specific one. It hadn’t escaped his notice that she’d asked for a skilled healer to serve tea. It was a waste of resources, not something Andruil was known for. The huntress had been goading him. Had she put the woman in his path last night? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was possible, likely even, but that still left questions about An’da’s origins. Had Andruil gone to the trouble to stage a performance with a griffon to confuse Ishanmis? That seemed like more levels of subterfuge than the woman was capable of. Perhaps… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind trailed off, a yawn reminding him to sleep. He climbed into the large bed, climbing beneath the silken covers and letting his eyes fall shut the moment his head hit the pillows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he shut his eyes, her screams echoed through his mind. They popped back open in an instant. He had spent the rest of the day trying </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>to think of those cries. The first time they snuck past his barriers, his hands had shaken uselessly by his sides, drawing a concerned gaze from Mythal. He had frozen his wine solid at dinner when the memory rose up again and his anger surged. His reaction to even thoughts of such cruelty had been difficult to mask. These had been the times he had hoped she was a spy, an excellent actress. If she wasn’t, if those cries had been real… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A memory flashed across his ming: Andruil’s form in the window above, watching as An’da made it painfully, slowly, dazedly across the grass, and his inability to do anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind spiraled uselessly through all the information he’d gathered, every moment he had witnessed and despite knowing he’d get no further in his quest for answers, some part of him refused to stop combing through the details. He fell asleep replaying moments of the last two days through his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d blame the dream on that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was back at Andruil’s receiving rooms. The wood of the door was hard and rough under his knuckles. The warding, meant to muffle the sound from inside, tingled faintly against his fingers as he knocked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As before, the door swung open soundlessly, revealing An’da’s silver-white head, wide grey eyes respectfully downcast as she gestured for him to enter the room, unaware that his eyes were lingering intently over her features. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As before the small splotch of pink frosting at the corner of her lip caught his eye, only this time he didn’t try to point it out, didn’t see her head tilt quizzically or her eyes narrow doubtfully at his failed attempt at communication. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, this time, he reached for her chin tilting her face to the light coming from the door, and rubbed the offending bit of icing from her lip with the pad of his thumb. It was uncommonly smooth and soft. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips parted then, just barely, and he suddenly felt an overwhelming need to taste them. Would her lips be sweet like the frosting? How would she respond? Would she welcome his attentions? Would she sigh with pleasure when he pressed his mouth to hers?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raising his eyes to gauge her reaction he met her cloud grey eyes, stormy with heat. He searched them intently and noted that the little flecks of jade were gone. </span>
</p><p><span>A dream... This was a dream… He stumbled back, surprised and appalled. What was </span><em><span>wrong </span></em><span>with him.</span> <span>He was </span><em><span>never</span></em><span> off his guard in the fade. Dismissing the spirit of desire with a wave, she dissipated into a warm red mist with a cheeky wink and a throaty chuckle.</span></p><p>
  <span>He shifted swiftly into his wolf form, convinced he’d be less distracted this way, and began to pace. This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>exceedingly</span>
  </em>
  <span> concerning. He was now having lust fueled dreams about some poor cowed serving woman who may well be a spy sent to tempt him. A woman who at this moment was probably in pain from the treatment he’d done nothing to stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was better than this. He would not let whoever had placed her in his path gain control of the situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing for it was to put her out of his mind. He could do that, once he was assured she was well. He would find her in the fade, ascertain the status of her health, offer what healing he could, and then promptly leave her to the remainder of her existence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Setting his intention to find her clearly in his mind, it was only moments before he found himself shifting back into his elvhen form in a small upper residence of a tree on the outskirts of Arlathan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No crystal staircases or colored glass walls here, only a large live-grown room worn smooth by years of use. A small table for two and accompanying stools by the entrance. No door either, a series of scarves and shawls hung from a bar across the top of the entrance to give the residence privacy, a warding glowed slightly under the brightly colored jewel toned fabrics.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turning he saw a small covered balcony with brightly-colored throw pillows pushed against the wall and a haphazard stack of books, indicating this was some sort of reading nook. On second glance the whole space was a reading nook. There were books everywhere, a few on the table, some on the floor by a chair. One was left open, spread on its pages on the small counter next to a wash basin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ribbons of various fabrics and colors hung from the branches above, strung with tiny fragments of colored glass that he imagined would make the colors bounce around the room were it day. It appeared to be early dawn, the sun was just rising outside a break in the branches that must serve as one of her windows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There in front of the window was a round mattress, so piled with pillows and throws, blankets and cushions, it obscured the woman snuggled within their softness. He could make out nothing of her shape. Only her head and hair were visible amongst the riot of jewel-toned soft things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her hair was un-bound for the first time since he’d met her. It washed in thick, soft waves across the pillows, looking like a river of liquid snow. He wanted to run his fingers through it, judge its softness for himself. He found himself taking a step towards her before he realized his mistake and reminded himself of his purpose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had found her. She appeared hale, in dreams at least. If she chose to rest in this place then he would leave her to it. He had almost turned to go when he noticed the sunbeam making its way across the riot of colored bedding, it would be directly in her eyes soon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not wanting it to disturb her rest, he stepped to her bedside and raised his hand, intending to put up a shade for her, when her hand shot out of the bedding and unerringly grabbed his wrist, her long white fingers were surprisingly strong in their grip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t” she said, her voice heavy with sleep, her eyes still closed. “I like the sunbeam. Let it be.” Then her fingers released their grip and his eyes were caught by the sight of her creamy bare arm and shoulder against the visual cacophony of her bedding. His eyes traced over her bare shoulder, noting her exposed collar bone, the sweep of her slender neck, and the curve of her jaw. The soft smile that spread across her face warmed something in him, as the sunbeam danced across her pert little nose, her still closed eyes rimmed with thick black lashes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Then her eyes fluttered open. She turned to meet his gaze, blushing furiously and instantly. He could only imagine she had just realized how he had been staring.</span> <span>He hissed out a breath, this was not why he had come. He shook his head to clear the fog and took a step back. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room around him began to break up into millions of tiny petals of color that flaked off, and blew away on the breeze. He turned in a circle, fascinated by her manner of dispatching the space. He watched as the branches overhead peeled off into soft petals of green and brown then blew about in a whirlwind past his face. Some of the petals brushed impossibly lightly against his nose and cheeks, before dissipating. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he had completed his circle she was standing before him, dressed as she had been earlier in the day, hair bound in its three braids along the left temple, the griffon bead nestled amidst them and the rest of the thick curls of her hair, but her vallaslin were gone. No thick black lines or dots to mar the smooth plane of her brow. No arrow shaft slashing down her nose or cutting through her chin. Here she looked as she must have before Andruil had claimed her. He couldn’t look away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her blush had faded slightly, but it still painted the tops of her cheeks and the tips of her pointed ears. As usual her eyes had found the floor, her hands clasped before her. That she felt the need to take up the servant’s position even in her own dream rankled him. If she could be free anywhere it should be here. She had been free, before he had interrupted. He knew better than to intrude on another’s dream. It was the height of rudeness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ir abelas,” he apologised, truly regretting that she should feel less in her own sanctuary. “I should not have entered your dream unannounced. I merely wanted to assure myself that you were well after the events of the day and to offer my healing services if they are required.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She appeared to consider his apology for a moment while the emotions flashed across her face, confusion, understanding, a quick flash of embarrassment followed by anger. She was incredibly expressive and she was clearly furious. “Thank you, for your concern,” she replied, her voice soft, quiet, demure, unlike her furrowed brows, and thinned lips. “I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>well</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but I will be. By the end of the week there will be no sign that today’s events ever occurred.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And the healing? May I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She cut him off, her voice wavering slightly, “Servants of Andruil are not allowed magical healing after having their vallaslin activated. The continued discomfort will serve to act as a stronger deterrent against erring in the future.” It was practically a litany, as though she could recite it in her sleep. He hated that any of the people had to recite these words. He hated that they existed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need not look away in my presence,” he said, reaching out slowly, giving her time to back away. He wanted to lift her chin, to see her stand tall and look him in the eyes as she had Felassan back in the garden. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it was not to be. She did back away then, just before his fingers would have grazed her jaw. “I would not want to begin any habits that may lead to further need for punishment. I was reminded today, who I serve.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His rage flared, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘reminded who she served’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>it echoed in his mind. The temperature around him dropped precipitously and he worked to calm himself as she took another step back, likely fearing his reprisal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then I shall take my leave,” he replied. It was really very imperative that he leave now. He couldn’t stomach frightening her more, and he needed to bring his anger to heel. He turned to leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I ask that you leave me be!” she blurted out in a rush, judging by her face she surprised even herself with her words. “If you can, please.” This last was an outright plea. Turning his gaze to hers, he saw the desperation in her face. Then she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>aware that her punishment had likely been due to his presence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have no intentions of seeking you out. I, too, would prefer if today’s events had never occurred.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <span>“Ma serannas,” she sighed, her shoulders slumping with relieved tension. A moment passed then while he studied her and she stared at the floor of the empty fade where they stood. He wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> something and knew there was nothing he could do. The best he could do for her would be to go and stay away. “Sleep well, An’da” he said, and then he was gone.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Back to Work</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An'da gets back to work, Felassan is a comforting friend, Solas sends a gift.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one didn't flow quite right...but attempts to make it work the way I'd like have failed. So it's here, as smooth as I could make it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>An’da awoke with a start. Her every muscle ached. Her back felt red and raw, much like it had after her first beach adventure. She hadn’t been prepared for how such pale skin reacted with the sun and had come away red and sore. If only there were a simple cream she could apply to avoid </span>
  <em>
    <span>these</span>
  </em>
  <span> burns ever happening again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tried to banish the events of her dream from her mind as she prepared for her day. Her roommates were, once again, absent. The angle of the sun told her it was still early morning, but those sharing with her would have started work before dawn. She was grateful that she could wash and dress in peace. She reapplied the burn salve to the parts she could reach and gave herself a mild dose of elfroot to help with the rest of the lingering aches. She just needed to be well enough to get through her day. She had plenty that needed doing in her bower, and she was concerned about what chaos Mathalin and his friends had gotten up to when she’d not been there to dose him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she carefully pulled on a clean tunic of emerald green, avoiding the worst of the burns, she remembered the wolf’s heated gaze from her dream.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had felt something enter the dream room. She’d thought it was a curious spirit and had chosen to ignore it in favor of waiting for her favorite sunbeam. When she’d felt the pull of magic, she’d guessed at its purpose, and reached out instinctively. It wasn’t until her eyes met his that she’d realized it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>him, </span>
  </em>
  <span>not a compassionate or mischievous spirit at all. The way he had looked at her had her blushing instantly and furiously. He had been there, in her </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>, her safe place, and he had been looking at her with that heated intensity she was starting to associate with him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Part of her had been affronted that he would enter her sanctuary, another part had been appalled that she had laid a finger on an Evanuris, the final part had feared his response to her daring to touch him, and it had all been too too much. She’d banished the house and the bed instantly, wanting him out of her safe place.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She realized now that she’d forgotten to give herself vallaslin in the dream. She always made it a point to keep the ugly lines off of her in her dreams. Her dreams were her own. But last night she had been too flustered to remember to replace the tattoos for her guest. What he must have thought about a slave daring to dream without them, she hoped to never find out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shook off the memory and returned to dressing, fixing her braids, and cleaning up the various vials she’d brought up last night. Unable to bear the weight of her belt on the slice on her hip, she found a bag and placed the vials in there. Leaving only the burn salve and the elfroot on her bedside table for tonight. Casting a quick laundering spell at the cake smears on her favorite shawl, she threw it over her shoulder, grabbed her bag, and headed out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her plan was to sneak through the kitchens, grab breakfast, and get to her bower before anyone could see her. Then she could lose herself in her work. Hopefully with some peace and solitude, she could make sense of yesterday. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The night’s rest had done wonders for her legs. They were still red and raw, but the burn cream was helping most of that. The rubbery feeling from yesterday was gone entirely, and she was grateful for that as she hurried down the winding staircase towards the kitchens below the servants’ trees. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>People were rushing about and Silvun was directing traffic with the ease of one long practiced. Trays of various breakfast foods going out with different instructions depending on the intended recipients. An’da intended to sneak through the chaos, dancing around her friends and acquaintances, to grab a piece of bread and some jerky off the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A gentle rap on her head, had her spinning and facing the glaring yellow-green eyes of the head cook. “That’s not for you, little one.” An’da had always been grateful that Silvun refused to call her by Andruil’s name for her. “Follow me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her chance at escaping notice, gone, she could do nothing but follow the hawk-like head of the kitchens. She was led to a stool in the corner near the largest of the hearths and was given one of her favorites, a flaky pastry filled with roasted and spiced meats and vegetables. A cup of warm spiced tea with cream sat next to it, generously sweetened with honey. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She blinked them back. Silvun must have heard what happened. The taciturn woman would never verbally express her feelings, but her heart was always expressed in her food. An’da gratefully took her seat and dug into her breakfast. Making sure she told the cook how much she appreciated the special meal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she ate her mind wandered back to her dream the night before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d invaded her dream, and her guard had been down, and then she had been blushing pretty much everywhere, and trying her hardest to keep her eyes to the floor. And then he had surprised her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ir abelas, I should not have entered your dream unannounced.” She hadn’t expected it, the apology. That he could, that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span>, offer one. “I merely wanted to assure myself that you were well after the events of the day and to offer my healing services if they are required.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had wondered for a moment, what had he meant by, “Events of the day”? Had he meant… and then </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Oh,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> It had suddenly dawned on her, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘he heard me. He knows what happened.’ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had been asking after her well being? The Evanuris didn’t care for these things. Did he? So far, his actions had been a mixture of predatory and dismissive. This sudden concern for her well being had been odd. Why would he have bothered?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, why would he have bothered </span>
  <em>
    <span>then? </span>
  </em>
  <span> It had been too late then. The damage had already been done. Maybe had he spoken up at the time she wouldn’t currently be aware of the aching rawness across her shoulders as she hunched over her pastry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She remembered then, how her anger had taken over. They hadn’t been just ‘events of the day’ to her. Creators she’d felt like she’d been burnt and flayed alive, and he had been able to use such dispassionate language?! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Realizing now, that all of this must have shown on her face, she was acutely aware that he hadn’t responded to her anger, and she was grateful. Many had been hit or worse for daring to show a less than placid face to one of the Evanuris, it was one of the reasons she kept out of sight unless absolutely necessary. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She remembered when her anger had melted into terror at his offer of healing magics.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And the healing? May I-” he had asked, his voice impossibly gentle. That surprised her, now, sitting on her stool. That he had been gentle, that he had asked. Even more that he had listened when she told him no. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If he had healed her Andruil would have… she would have… An’da didn’t want to think of it. It would ruin her excellent breakfast. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finishing the last crumbs she thanked Silvun for the excellent pastry, praising its flakiness and flavor. She had a little pink frilly cake pressed into her hand for her trouble, and a whispered, “You take care,” from the gruff woman.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nodding her thanks, An’da snuck out of the kitchens. She took the long way around to her bower in an attempt to stay hidden. It took a little longer this way, but she enjoyed seeing the outer edges of the grove. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she reached her bower she lowered the wards she’d barely managed to get up the day before. In hindsight she was lucky she had gotten anything up at all. The wards had been weak but they had held for the night. Grateful for this as well, she stepped inside and began to replace the potions she had taken the night before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t long before she was working steadily. She had new batches of elfroot drying, dried embrium to crush, and a pot of boiling water ready for a restoration potion she was working on. She lost herself in her work, as the day passed. The rhythm of the healer’s space was a soothing reminder of Lahtara and home.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At some point her mind drifted back to the dream, and the wolf’s voice again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need not look away in my presence,” he had said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had wanted to look up then. Now she couldn’t say if it was because she wanted to read the thoughts on his face, to defy Andruil’s edicts, to show him her anger at his intrusion, or her fear that he might heal her. She knew it wasn’t curiosity at what she might find in his eyes, that was a preposterous idea. She remembered that she hadn’t looked up, and that she had narrowly avoided his hand as he reached for her chin. She briefly wondered what that might have felt like.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The way the temperature had dropped then, he must have been angry. She remembered stepping back again, thinking it was anger at her for defying him. Now she wondered if maybe his ire had been directed elsewhere. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘It doesn’t matter now’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought, dismissing that train of thought. He had spared her by leaving before she could act out, break down, or embarrass herself in some other way, and for that she was grateful again.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She remembered how she had begged him to stay away from her. She hadn’t meant the words to be spoken out loud, but once they were she had been surprised by how badly she needed him to agree. She knew it wasn’t fair, he hadn’t inflicted it, but she associated his presence with the pain across her back and had wanted him gone nonetheless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She remembered thinking, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Maybe if he actually cares about what happened… maybe he will stay away.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now she remembered the plea in her voice, hating the weakness, knowing he must pity her. Hating that that’s what so many saw when they looked at her. Pity for the soft weak thing who couldn’t protect herself. Still, if it kept him at a distance, kept her skin from erupting in flames, she would take his pity gladly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She remembered her relief when he agreed to keep his distance. It was like a great stone weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She had breathed deeply with the hope of it. Now she tried to believe that if he left her alone, she would be alright, and things would go back to normal. She almost believed it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By late afternoon, the elfroot was keeping most of the twinges under control. Her back and legs, while definitely raw, were functional. But best of all she had been left entirely alone since she had woken this morning and memories of her uncomfortable dream had finally stopped assailing her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She continued to work, setting new herbs to dry, stripping leaves off stems, grinding seeds and roots into pastes. Filling vials with herbs that had finished their drying and adding alcohol to make the tinctures she’d need in the coming months. It was hard to believe they’d only been here less than a month. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t see Felassan leaning against the open archway until he coughed meaningfully, arching an eyebrow in greeting when she jumped half a mile into the air before settling and meeting his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Felassan!,” she gasped, “I didn’t see you there.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Obviously,” he surveyed the apparent chaos of her work table. “You’re busy. I’ve been watching you whirl about in here like a wind storm for quite a while. Something on your mind?” She never worked this frantically, and she wished he hadn’t noted it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope, nothing. I’m not talking about it.” An’da picked up a mortar full of blood lotus seeds and began grinding vigorously, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away. “I’m sure Roga already told you all about yesterday, and I’m not rehashing it. I’m just moving forward and staying out of everyone’s way as much as I can.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Felassan came in then, his face relaxing as he leaned against the side wall of the bower. “You don’t have to talk about it,” his voice was soft. He understood, she knew he did. He had lost his father to the madwoman they served. “I just needed to see you were okay, asa’ma’lin. When the… our </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>… told me you needed healing… I just. I was worried.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She slowed her grinding, and really looked at him for the first time. He was rumpled and he had circles under his eyes. Poor Fel, he hadn’t slept. His understanding, his worry, somehow his caring triggered her tears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay, Fel,” she said, the first tear falling from her eye, giving her the lie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cocked an eyebrow at her then came closer and wrapped his arms around her gently, careful of the state of her back. She sank into his hug and let the tears fall then, just soaking in his reassuring presence. A few moments passed this way before something he’d said dawned on her… “Wait, our </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>, told you to send Rogasha?” she sniffled against his chest, before pulling away enough to look at his face.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he handed her a cloth from a nearby shelf, for her face, “I was on the other side of the grove watching idiots wrestle, they were too damn loud. If they hadn’t been I would have heard you. I could have sent someone sooner...” His lips thinned and his eyes glanced away. Why was he acting ashamed? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fel, it’s not your job to protect me. There was nothing you could have done.” She took his hands. “Even if you had been close enough to hear, you couldn’t have done a thing. She would have just taken it out on us both, and then where would we be?” She put her hands on his face and made him look her in the eyes, before repeating, “It’s not your job to protect me.” She wanted to get it through his thick skull, but didn’t hold out much hope. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I promised Ishan I would look after you,” he said, “He was worried-” Felassan cut off swiftly, turning with a glance to the entrance, pulling his hands out of hers instantly. “Can I help you?” he said rather curtly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da quickly stood, from her position behind the work table she hadn’t been able to see the visitor around Felassan. How had Fel seen him with his back to the man?  The servant was a younger elf, but unmarked, and definitely not an Evanuris. He seemed to be taken aback by the sudden scrutiny and as Felassan stood to his full height and glared rather impressively at the young man, his eyes began to widen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The young elf stiffly held out a silver wrapped rectangular package tied with a jade green ribbon, and stuttered, “I-I-I was to deliver this to Andruil’s healer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Felassan came round the table then, “And you’ve delivered it.” He continued his glare, “You can leave it on the table.” The young man dropped the package rather suddenly on a pile of drying rashvine and quickly scuttled away.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fel, what was that about?” An’da chastised him for his rudeness. “The poor man was just delivering something…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’d been there for too long, An’da. He didn’t announce his presence. I should have noticed, damn it! He was listening in,” He shook his head. “Look I don’t know what or why, but you’re being singled out. A lot of </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>powerful people are paying too much attention to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She chuckled at this, a wry laugh that didn’t meet her eyes. “You think I don’t know that?! Fel, I do, but I don’t know how to stop it. What value could I </span>
  <em>
    <span>possibly</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to any of them?” She stopped herself suddenly then, realizing her voice was becoming slightly hysterical sounding and tears were starting to prick at the corners of her eyes again. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then winced as one of the cuts on her ribs twinged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Asa’ma’lin,” he sighed, coming back around the table. “I’m sorry, I’m just scared for you. Roga came to see me after she left you. We both think it’s best if we find a way to send you back to the estates.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And how are you going to manage that?” An’da raised one eyebrow at him. She had spent all morning thinking through things, while she tried to </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>think through things. She couldn’t make herself believe her errors were the cause for the lashing she’d received, and she had a feeling, a vague sort of dread, that Andruil wasn’t really done with her. No, even if Felassan and Rogasha came up with an outstanding reason for her to return to the estates, she had no illusions that Andruil would allow it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We haven’t figured that out yet, but…” He sighed. He knew it to be as unlikely as she thought it to be. “We’ll keep working on it. In the meantime, please, just try to keep a low profile.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t think she needed to dignify that with a response. She always kept a low profile, the lowest. In fact, over the last half century and more, she had become certain Andruil had forgotten her entirely. Clearly she should re-examine that certainty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Deciding to change topics, because she was worn out on this one, “Are you competing in the opening games?” She asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” he blinked at her and the sudden change of subject, then with the understanding of a longtime friend he nodded and leaned back, “Of course, it’s my job to teach Falon’din’s underlings their proper place.” He smirked with pride. “I’ll be in the magical contests, archery, and knives. I’m considering entering the staff games as well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That many events? Are you sure?” she asked. “I’ll have to start working on some stamina draughts for you. Wouldn’t want you knocked out just because you overexerted yourself.” She smiled up at him and resumed grinding her seeds. The comfort of having her friend nearby, knowing he’d understand her need to talk about something else, anything else. She was exceedingly grateful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Felassan took her redirection and ran with it. He told her about who was competing in what event, who the strongest competitors were in each of the Evanuris’ camps and what training regimes Rogasha was beginning to enforce. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their conversation veered from there to home, and those they missed, to the assignations of the hunters and the nobles of the other groups. By the time the sun was setting An’da had done a full day’s work, the elfroot was beginning to wear off and she was achy, but grateful for good friends and long talks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Solas was reading, on the balcony of his private sitting room when he felt the presence at the wards on the door. A book of poetry sat open on his lap, but he’d been struggling to give the volume the attention it deserved. In truth, he was grateful for the interruption.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come,” he said, dismissing the wards with a thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He found himself hoping it was Borean, the young servant he’d sent to Andruil’s healer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he’d woken after the dream he’d not been able to get her out of his head. Her desperate plea that he leave her be, her sigh, and her palpable relief when he’d agreed. It was clear she associated him with her treatment at Andruil’s hands, and she was likely correct. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He intended to keep his word, to keep her at a distance. And yet, he had questions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was an exceptionally skilled dreamer. The detail in her sanctuary had been astonishing, the play of light, the textures of the different fabrics, the sounds of the leaves in the breeze and the birds out the windows. Was it a real place? It didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen in any of Andruil’s estates.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then there was the fascinating way she’d dissipated the space. Something was familiar about the blowing petals that he couldn’t put his finger on. He felt certain it was significant. How had she come to be so adept at dreaming? Who was her teacher?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The questions just grew in number the longer he was awake. So, when he saw her ridiculously improbable reading material laying on the table next to his bed, he’d felt compelled to give it to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reminding himself that it was not his to give, he’d gone to Mythal with a request to loan her books to servants wanting to learn. She had appreciated his proposal and agreed, provided her library remained a private sanctuary. He had agreed to be responsible for the removal and return of the requested literature and they’d passed an agreeable morning together in her library. It was only then that he’d finally remembered the book of poetry he’d meant to borrow the last time he’d been there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Returning to his own rooms he had realized he could keep his word, reassure An’da that he meant to keep his distance, and seek answers to his questions all in one move. He had wrapped the book she’d intended to steal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Borrow, she meant to borrow it,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> he reminded himself. Then he’d written her a quick note, sealing it and spelling it so that only she could read it, and he’d sent Borean off to deliver it to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Since then, he’d been doing his best to read the words spelled into the pages in front of him. Despite their beauty and evocative imagery, he couldn’t seem to stay focused. The images would manifest and then flicker out as his attention wavered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He snapped the book shut with more force than was absolutely necessary, startling Borean as he stepped onto the balcony. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It has been delivered, sir,” the young elf said bowing slightly at the waist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Borean. I appreciate your expediency. And how was the healer when you saw her?” It was not uncommon for him to ask after the recipients of his missives.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The way the young man’s eyes tilted, ever so slightly downward, did not bode well for what he was about to hear. Borean was extremely observant, he often saw what others wished he would not. There was a reason Solas had chosen him for this delivery. “She was clearly distressed, sir. Though about what, I cannot entirely say.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Entirely? What can you say then?” he asked with a tilt of his head, all his focus intent on the young elvhen and his report. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When I arrived she was in the arms of one of Andruil’s hunters. She had clearly been crying and was trying to reassure the hunter that he need not try to protect her. From what, I cannot say.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The image of her in one of the hunters arms had twisted something in his gut that he didn’t particularly want to examine. Perhaps her betrothed had been called to join Andruil’s household, here in the palace. That would make sense. If that was not the case, then she was playing on the affections of more than just one hunter.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And this man, do you know who he is?” he bit out the words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I believe he is one of their top hunters: violet eyes, chestnut hair, many braids, almost constant smirk, though he wasn’t wearing it today. He said someone named “Ishan” had asked him to look out for her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am familiar with the hunter, yes,” and just like that the twist in his gut disappeared, it was Felassan. The hunter was Felassan, someone she considered a brother. He told himself he was relieved because it was in keeping with the story he’d already heard. It wouldn’t add to his ever growing pile of questions. He almost believed himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything more to add?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only that the hunter noticed me listening and was highly…” Borean paused looking for an accurate and yet polite word, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>displeased</span>
  </em>
  <span> with being interrupted. I was advised to leave the gift and remove myself. Which I did, quickly. His face suggested impending violence.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes, the young hunter was quite protective of those he cared for. Solas found himself grateful for the tendency at that moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Borean. You did well.” With that he dismissed Borean and returned to the balcony. When the door shut behind him, he recast the wards with a passing thought and considered returning to his book. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, he’d not get anywhere with it until she opened the package. He’d spelled it to alert him when she did. He’d simply have to occupy himself with something that required more of his focus. Perhaps a run, or sparring. Yes, sparring would work off some of his frustrations. He left in search of his warriors. It would only be a matter of moments before he’d feel the familiar magic that let him know one of his missives had been read.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ir ableas = I'm sorry</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Deliveries</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An'da is tasked with delivering something to Solas.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A few weeks had gone by and she’d been left blessedly alone. The hunters were kept busy with training and preparations for the games in a few months’s time. She was called to the occasional stabbing, burn, or blunt weapon trauma. She had much less need for her ‘knockout’ potion as the worst of the hunters were too exhausted to do much but brawl, eat, and sleep. The rest of the time she was left to prepare her herbs and concoctions in peace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t fool enough to believe that she was entirely escaping notice. She didn’t know who was watching her, but from time to time she felt eyes on her even when she thought she was alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Felassan had returned her vials to her after their long conversation and she had been grateful that the wolf had been kind enough to do so, and that he had kept his distance as he had promised. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was beginning to relax and fall into a comfortable pattern of work, time chatting with her roommates, and short breaks with Rogasha or Felassan. One or the other checked in with her every day, and she knew they were nervous as well. She hoped they had given up on their attempts to get her assigned back to the estates. It would only call attention to them, and not in a good way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Today it was Felassan checking on her, they were deeply engaged in an argument about whether he or his brother was better equipped to take down Falon’din’s prized warrior. Fel insisted that despite his smaller size, his cunning made up the difference, and Ishan’s hatred of nugs was an obvious and easily exploitable weakness. An’da laughed, the idea of nugs on the field and Ishan’s reaction was hilarious. Besides, she knew he was only trying to rile her up. She would never accept that there was a better hunter than his older brother.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were both laughing when the youngest of Andruil’s servants, Sah’rel, entered the bower with a bow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da hadn’t had much of a chance to speak with her alone. She had only entered service a few months before they left for Arlathan. She was one of An’da’s roommates here, but she was the quietest of the lot, seeming scared of her own shadow most of the time. An’da remembered that feeling all too well. So she had tried to draw her out on occasion without being too pushy. Thinking back on her first few years in Andruil’s household reminded her that no one had it easy here. She just hoped she could ease the difficult days for this girl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The way her eyes darted to Felassan and lingered over his laughing eyes and long legs, An’da thought she might have a bit of a crush. Smiling gently at the girl, she welcomed her in, “Sah’rel, come join us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, healer,” she kept her eyes on the floor and snuck around the frame of the wide doorway. Then she hurried to the work bench and placed a large wrapped box on a clean patch before quickly backing up near the wall again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da was suddenly reminded of the package delivered by the unmarked servant weeks ago. Where had she put that? She made a note to find it before she left for the evening. She usually wasn’t so forgetful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s this?” An’da asked, moving towards it, intending to open the package. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Our lady has asked that you deliver this to the wolf in his grove,” Sah’rel replied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da’s hands stilled instantly, her mind going blank at the mention of a direct task from Andruil. Images from her last moments with Andruil flashed through her mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She commands that you observe the opening of the package and return to report to her when it is done.” An’da wasn’t sure know why, but there was a slight tremor in her hands now and it was hard to breathe. Andruil, humming vallaslin, gasping on the floor… Where had all the air gone? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Felassan caught on in an instant. “Thank you, Sah’rel. You’ve done well in passing on the message. You may go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The young woman didn’t wait more than a moment before darting out the door again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da couldn’t get enough air and she felt a strange warm wetness on her face. Then Felassan had his arms around her. “She hasn’t forgotten me,” she whispered into his chest when she finally found words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>_______</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da had eventually gotten a hold of herself with help, and decided that it was better to get the task over with. The sooner it was done, the sooner she would be able to put it behind her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Besides, as Felassan had reminded her, the vast majority of tasks Andruil asked to be carried out were terribly dull and mundane. Likely, she’d deliver the item and then go on her way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d offered up many possible reasons she may have been tasked with this. Among them, that it was a gift that required a healer’s explanations, or perhaps he had asked for a healer to attend to one of his people, perhaps he had an ailment of his own that she would be particularly suited to helping with.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as she’d seen Felassan off and set her wards, she headed off towards the wolf’s grove. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It would have been a pleasant walk had it not been for the trepidation her errand caused her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The trees in each grove were varied and represented different types of environments throughout Elvhenan. Each grove mimicking the home estates of the Evanuris residing in it for the gathering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once she left Andruil’s territory she wandered through the deep, almost jungle-like environs of Ghilan'nain's. The heat there swealtered, and many beasts ran rampant. She was unsure how many of them were true beasts and how many were elvhen in animal form. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rooms in the branches above reminded her vaguely of nests or dens like they had been crafted by the many creatures she saw amidst the vines. The stairways created almost entirely of thin vines delicately grown into webs winding up to the spaces above. The varied bird-song alone would have been worth the trip on any other day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The wolf’s grove lay just next to Ghilan’nain’s. There were rumours that the two had been close before Andruil and the halla had met. She supposed it made sense that their groves were near to each other then. The trees here were vast, larger than in Andruil’s grove. The paths were covered with soft, delicate, pine needles and lined with ferns that made every step fall softly. There was a coolness to his grove that contrasted starkly with the heat of Ghilan’nain’s grove. She found it a welcome relief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Here the elvhen walked as elvhen, a few passed by as animals, but the majority were on two legs, and none were marked. It was a shock seeing so many unmarked faces. They were working, training, reading, doing all the same things as Andruil’s people, or Ghilan’nain’s or June’s but here their faces were plain and they walked with their heads held high. The air even felt more open, though she could not explain how. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were also spirits here, many more than in Andruil’s territory. The huntress usually attracted spirits of valor, perseverance, agility, and grace. Here were the same spirits, but added to their lot were wisdom, curiosity, discovery, intrigue, compassion, and too many more to count. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rooms here leaned more towards the fantastical, like Mythal’s rooms of crystal, but tempered and blended with the natural elements. The crystalline walls were woven amongst the branches, and winding staircases of some polished green stone were held in place by crystal and wood frameworks grown together seamlessly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t been in the grove for more than a few moments, when a young man trotted up and introduced himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello, friend. Welcome to the wolf’s grove. I am Islanil. Can I help you with something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She bowed slightly to him, it was only good manners. Then asked for directions, adding, “I’ve been instructed to deliver this package by my mistress.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course. I can take it to him if you’d prefer,” the young man offered eagerly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da took a quick step back. “No!” she gasped, then took a shaky breath trying to calm herself. She didn’t like to think what would happen if she didn’t deliver the package precisely as directed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes rounded and he stepped back as if wounded. She hadn’t wanted to offend him, but she couldn’t let him do as he asked. “Ir abelas, no offense to your honor was intended. I was instructed to deliver it in person.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tel abelas.” He gave a gentle shake of his head before returning to his earlier sunny disposition and inviting her to follow him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He led her through the heart of the wolf’s grove, attempting to speak with her as he went. Questions about her day, her role in Andruil’s household, and her family were all met with short, mumbled apologies before he left off and simply led her on in silence. He had great sympathy for those in service in other households. He could only imagine what made this young woman so quiet and fearful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da was grateful for a guide &amp; wished she could speak openly with this young man. She had a thousand questions to ask about how the wolf’s household ran, about the unfamiliar flowering plants in a garden they passed, about the spirits congregating near a pergola covered with vining purple and white flowers. If she hadn’t been terrified of Andruil’s assessment of her performance at her current task, she would have happily spoken with him. He was cheerful and kind. As it was, she had to bite back her questions and avoid his. Fear of giving away too much about her household and angering her mistress, kept her mostly silent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was relieved when they came to the largest of the massive trees in the grove and the foot of the stairs winding upwards. “It’s just up here,” he directed before leading her up into the canopy around the massive ridged trunk. “You needn’t be worried,” He said softly as they climbed. “He doesn’t bite, and I’ve never heard him give a negative report on another’s servant. Please rest easy while you’re here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da appreciated the intent, but there was really nothing he could say. The wolf could be a box of fluffy bunnies and she’d still be all nerves because of who she had to report to. Besides what would he say when she came to </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> grove after practically begging him to leave her be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had followed through on his word and now here she was, breaking their agreement. She hoped he would remember she had no choice in her own assignments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The receiving platform had a floor of the same rich green stone webbed through with the almost golden wood of the branches supporting it. It connected with other platforms of varying heights via arching bridges and pathways made of the same woven green-stone, crystal, and golden wood. It was breathtaking and she wished she could be here under better circumstances.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Islanil paused by a door near the trunk that led into a room amidst the branches. It was grown together in a method not unlike her oak back home, only much much fancier. Here green striped stone and golden wood swirled together in a unique organic looking pattern around a pointedly arched doorway. Her companion knocked gently and spoke their names to the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She saw a flash of light as the ward on the door dissipated and it swung inward without a servant to open it. Islanil led her inside through a short entrance way and into a receiving room that was more office than welcoming space. A desk piled with books and parchments was in one corner, some lounging chairs in another, and between the two corners ran a path from one balcony to another meeting up with the path they tread now. Ahead, through the doors leading to the northernmost balcony she could see him standing with his back to them, his hands behind him as Islanil announced them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A servant of Andruil, here to deliver a package,” he bowed, though there was no sense that the other man could see them. An’da bowed as well and averted her eyes the moment his broad shoulders started to turn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Solas had been mildly irritated when it appeared as though the healer would not open his package on the first day it arrived. By the seventh day he had decided to have his newest agent in the Huntress’ household determine if the package had been stolen. She had reported back surprisingly quickly, it was still sitting on the corner of a desk in her bower, under a parchment covered with drying prophet’s laurel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His agent was forthcoming with information on the healer’s activities within Andruil’s household. He already had a working knowledge of her closest associates, her usual responsibilities, and her preferred manner of spending any free time, as rare as it might be. He knew she had fully healed, that she was a favorite of the serving staff and most of the hunters as well for her kindness and compassion. None of the information he’d gleaned so far had revealed her to be other than she presented herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had almost given up on her opening the package and was about to summon Borean to go retrieve it; when his new agent had contacted him to warn him. The healer had been dispatched to his grove.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finding himself unusually distracted for some reason, he had gone out to the balcony of his office hoping the fresh air would settle his mind. The immediate recognition the moment she came into view on the path below him was a visceral thing and once again he found he could not look away. He had been thinking of her far too often, it was disconcerting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had been pleased when Islanil broke off from a group to welcome her. Perhaps the empathetic young man could put her at ease.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had observed their approach, noting her furtive glances about, the obvious wonder in her eyes as she took in his grove, and how it warred with her attempts to stay meek and accommodating. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now Islanil was announcing her, and he prepared himself to not react to her. He knew she had no choice in being a part of this meeting, and for now neither did he. He would not make it more difficult for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turning he found An’da in the doorway. Her head bowed and a gilt and wooden box in her hands tied shut with a snow white ribbon edged in silver, the exact shade of her hair. Islanil stood next to her his eyes beseeching, as if to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I tried.’ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew the young man hated when anyone was uncomfortable, he was surprisingly empathetic and An’da’s posture and fearful submissiveness would be deeply concerning for Islanil. Solas dismissed his servant with a reassuring nod and a gesture at the door. The young elf sighed and left quickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Welcome An’da,” He said to her when the door had slipped shut and the ward had replenished itself. Her brow furrowed at the sound of her name. She hadn’t known he knew it then, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘How could she if she has not opened the package.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought to himself, with frustration. “What brings you here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Andruil sends you this gift,” she said as she proffered up the box. He stepped carefully towards her and took the box gently. Recalling their last interaction and his unfortunate spike of temper, he moved with care, in the hopes that he would not frighten her again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He found his eyes roaming over her downcast face and wishing she would look up for just a moment. That was, of course, complete idiocy. Her posture and training were precisely what was expected of her. Shaking his head to clear the unwanted thoughts he dismissed her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then you may tell her your duty is complete and it has been delivered. Please pass on my thanks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘If only it were that easy’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought to herself. “My apologies, but I have been instructed to remain present until the package has been opened and its contents have been received.” She hated to contradict an Evanuris, but her most recent interaction with Andruil left it very clear that she was to follow orders to the letter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” he moved across to one of the lounges and sat, placing the box on the table. “Then I must insist that you sit,” he said, indicating the lounge opposite him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knew she couldn’t refuse a direct order by an Evanuris. So she made her way silently to the sitting area, taking the seat farthest from him, and gluing her eyes to the package. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She watched as his long lean fingers untied the intricate silver bow and unfolded a piece of parchment that had been left on top. Upon opening the letter, Andruil’s voice filled the space as though she were standing between them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I send this to you as a reminder of our recent meeting,” the huntress’ voice practically purred. “I noticed your eyes seemed rather drawn towards these and you had left without sampling them. You seemed so very hungry that afternoon. I feel I have erred as a hostess, knowing that a guest left unsatisfied. I hope this gift sates your desires for the time being. If you desire more, know that you are welcome in my grove at any time. Feel free to return and sample our wares more fully” The way her voice lingered on certain words left no doubt in An’da’s mind what she was referring to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andruil was propositioning the wolf. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She watched as his eyes grew heated, reading the words a second time. It seemed he was considering the proposition.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he opened the lid and his eyes immediately snapped to hers. The intensity of his gaze drew a heated blush from her, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Why is he looking at </span>
  </em>
  <span>me</span>
  <em>
    <span> like that?’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>she wondered as his eyes became fixed on her mouth and she lost coherent thought for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wrenched her eyes from his face, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>okay that she was feeling so flustered in his presence.</span>
  <em>
    <span> ‘Quick, find something else, anything else, to say, to look at, anything!’ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes fell to the box. Inside was a half dozen of the tiny frilly cakes An’da loved so much. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘A good gift,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought to herself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘anyone would melt for those.’</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The frilly cakes immediately brought to mind the dream he’d had the other night, and the spirit of desire in his dream, the frosting on her mouth just as it had been on An’da’s earlier in the day. The way her eyes had widened when he touched her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes had flown to hers of their own volition, shocked to see that she returned his gaze, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide and watchful. His eyes had been pulled to her full bottom lip as though it were a magnet and some part of his mind registered that her blush intensified as he remembered the softness of it under his thumb.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Images from the dream flashing through his mind he tried to focus on the actual day. Not the desire tainted dream, but the actual woman sitting across from him. How she’d opened the door while his knuckles still buzzed from contact with the warding on the door. The look on her face as if he were unbalanced. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That image cooled some of the heat raging through him, that and…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘The buzz from the warding on the door...’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>If the door had been warded he would have heard nothing on the stairs or the landing. Someone had intentionally lowered the warding so he would hear her suffering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Damn Andruil to the void,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thought, tearing his eyes away from An’da’s soft mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If the cursed cakes on the table and the woman delivering them were not enough of a sign, the lowered ward clinched it. Andruil was luring him into some sort of trap with this woman as bait. Raise his interest in her, play on his sympathies with her pain, then tempt him with her in a more carnal manner. Was the healer aware of her role in the game, or an unwilling participant? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This letter left no doubt as to Andruil’s intentions. She was practically offering this woman up as a pleasure slave and he was not proud at the images that conjured in his mind. The whole damned letter was full of double entendres, ‘he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>hungry’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, ‘hated that he left </span>
  <em>
    <span>unsatisfied’, ‘sating </span>
  </em>
  <span>his </span>
  <em>
    <span>desires.’</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And of course the huntress had spelled it to read aloud so they both would hear it. The woman across from him was blushing furiously and looking distinctly uncomfortable, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘She has a bondmate,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought, chastising himself</span>
  <em>
    <span>, ‘of course she’s uncomfortable at the implication.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her eyes were wide and kept darting from the letter, to his face, to the cakes, and back again. He could only imagine her fear at being called to forswear her oath to her beloved.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wanted to calm her, to assure her he had no intention of taking the Huntress up on her offer, nor would he ever. He cast about for something that might help, might soothe her worried mind. He couldn’t offer her the book, as he’d already sent it. In the end his eyes landed on the cakes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you like one?” he said, holding the box out towards her. He watched as her eyes fixed on the cakes and he noted a telling twitch in her hand. Yes, she would like one. He could read it in her face too. He also read the moment she decided it wasn’t a gift she could trust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, thank you. They were gifted to you. I couldn’t.” She shook her head, but he was pleased to note her eyes had stopped their restlessness. “I should go. You have received the gift and the letter. My duty is complete.” She stood to go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he realized what was happening, he had spoken, “Your sanctuary in the fade, was that your creation?” She froze at the sound of his voice and turned back to him. He gestured to her place on the lounge, and she sat again. The intensity of the relief he felt when she sat again was troubling. He reminded himself that he did need answers and it would be best to get them from her himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… I didn’t create it… or not exactly.” Her voice was hesitant, “It is a memory of a place. I built the memory, not the original place. I’m not a builder.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A memory,” he prompted, “It did not look like a servants quarters, nor did it appear to be the construction style Andruil favors.” It wasn’t a question, but as he had hoped, she took it as one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no…,” she shook her head. He was pleased to see the tension leaving her. Her gaze was even moving freely, still not meeting his, but taking in the space, and the room around them, her fingers straying to the fringe of her shawl and playing with it. “It’s a memory from before. I keep it as it was when I last saw it. A reminder that there was a time before…” she gestured with a hand towards her vallaslin, “this.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes met his then and he could see it there, the need to remember when she wasn’t owned, when she was free and could look another in the eye without having to think about their status or if they were likely to slap her for the audacity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He understood. He remembered being Mythal’s pet. Despite the fact that he had been a favored one, high ranking, and free from coercion or threat; he knew what it was to be owned and he knew how it chafed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I intruded on that sanctuary.” He was truly sorry for entering her space unbidden, “Ir abelas. That was unconscionably rude.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no,” she said, with a quick shake of her head. “Well, yes-” her eyes went impossibly wide and she clamped a hand over her mouth. The terror in her form was real, she had just told an Evanuris he was rude. In any other grove that would have been severely punished. “I didn’t mean… I meant…” He didn’t know how to convince her she was safe here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watched as she blinked and glanced away. He saw the intention forming in her to leave. She was really intensely expressive. Either she was an incredible actress or completely, disarmingly honest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> fine,” he tried to reassure her, holding his hands out, palms down a gesture intended to calm. “I would prefer you speak your mind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What I meant was,” she took a deep breath before continuing, “that while it’s generally considered rude, I understand why you came, and that your intention was to offer aid. I should apologize for touching you without your request. I didn’t look, I thought it was just a wisp or a curious spirit. I had no idea…” Her eyes met his again. He saw the contrition there, and the fear.  What was worse was the moment it brought to mind, and his shameless gawking at her sleeping form. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tel abelas, I did not take offense. Unless we are simply going to continue to apologize to one another. In that case, I fear I must also apologize for the weather. It is unconscionably sunny today.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It hadn’t been a particularly clever jest, it probably didn’t even count as a jest, but perhaps it was just unexpected enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had laughed then. In truth, it was more a quick exhalation of air, than an actual laugh, but combined with the soft smile and the wrinkling at the corner of her eyes he counted it as one. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘She is stunning.’</span>
  </em>
  <span> the thought escaped him before he had a chance to contain it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes met his then, still warm with her smile and he felt a strange warmth spread through his chest. That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely</span>
  </em>
  <span> troubling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stopping that line of thinking quickly, he returned to his gentle probing for information, “It seems odd that a skilled healer would be sent to deliver cakes. Is this type of errand common for you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her brow furrowed and she nibbled her lower lip in thought, before answering. “No, not at all. I was puzzling on it the whole walk over. I think it’s probably some sort of test. Will I follow directions as asked, or will I veer off and try to change things, because I thi…” she seemed to sort of fade away at the end of her sentence, her eyes going wide with fear again, “Creators, I did. I sat down. I got comfo… Ir abelas. I have to go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stood in a rush, delivered a hasty bow, and practically bolted from the room.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Damn the huntress!’</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thought with venom, as he found himself standing, staring after a door that had just slammed shut, an arm outstretched as if he could stop her flight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shaking himself, he regained his composure and began pacing. An’da </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>gotten comfortable, he’d seen it. Hells he’d been surprised by how deeply he’d enjoyed it. Seeing her shut down again was not ideal. It had ended his line of questioning and he was certain he had been nearing some answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time his pacing brought him to the balcony she was already out of sight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His instincts were telling him that she wasn’t complicit in Andruil’s schemes, but he couldn’t rely on those alone. There was too much that still didn’t add up. If he wanted to know for certain he needed her to relax, to trust him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had divulged a little. She had told him her dream sanctuary had been her home. However, if it had been, then the story of her child was a lie. There had been no toys in her construct, no child’s bed, no scribbled drawings, no small socks or shoes laying about. There was absolutely nothing to indicate it had been a child’s home. If the child was really hers, where had it lived? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There had also been nothing to indicate the presence of a father for said child. Though that wasn’t necessarily evidence against there being one. Maybe the father had been taken into service, or had died in some accident? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps there was a particularly curious spirit who decided to become embodied in a child’s form? It was extraordinarily unlikely but possible, he supposed. Regardless, no evidence of a child meant all this was conjecture.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Most likely the story of Andruil’s first encounter with her was a farce put on for someone’s benefit, but whose?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If it had been put on for Andruil’s benefit, then the huntress had a mole in her household (or another mole, not counting his two) and she was trying to make that mole an asset for her own purposes. If An’da was complicit in this, then she was working for her original master as well as Andruil, in allowing herself to be brought to his attention. If she wasn’t then she was in a particularly dangerous position. Regardless, of her awareness of the scheme, it pointed at him being a target.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If the farce had been put on for Ishanmis’ benefit, then it had worked spectacularly. The hunter had taken oaths with her, intended to bond with her, and those oaths were not given lightly, especially among the serving class, for whom they were incredibly dangerous. He had been relieved to see the lack of a bonding charm amidst her braids today. It meant the oaths, while important, hadn’t reached the stage of being a full bond. There was a chance to warn the hunter off, if she was working against him. An oath could be dissolved. Bonding magic was an entirely different order of magnitude.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It still seemed unlikely to him that Ishanmis was the intended target. While the hunter was 1st in Andruil’s household, he was not likely to be able to provide her with the kind information and power, a spy of her caliber would be sent to collect. (Assuming she was a spy of course). Which meant, her master was aware of what he’d done for the hunter’s father. This, too, indicated him as the target.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thing that concerned him, was that both paths could lead to his work being exposed. Ishanmis’ was his friend and mentor’s son. Felassan was his agent. She was too close to both of them before Andruil began trying to put her in his path. It seemed there would be no escaping her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would let whoever was pulling the strings think he was enamoured. He would seek her out, play the ruler enticed by a young servant. Whatever strings were tied to her, well… strings pulled in both directions. He would yank them out of the shadows and they would be brought to heel.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ir abelas - I'm sorry<br/>tel abelas - don't be sorry</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Reports</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An'da gets a gift, and has to report to Andruil. Maybe there's a loophole?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a short one, cuts don't work well otherwise.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>An’da had bolted from the room, down the stairs and off towards Andruil’s grove as fast as her feet could carry her. She vaguely noticed Islanil waving to her as she scampered past. As she ran she couldn’t help but think she’d failed in the test again. She’d observed the opening of the package, but then she’d stayed to talk with the wolf. Why had she done that?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had sat down because he seemed as if he wouldn’t open it unless she did. He had insisted. That was easy enough to explain, but why had she stayed?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She even tried to leave, but then he’d asked more questions and she’d felt… comfortable? Her frantic pace was slowing at the thought. She’d felt comfortable. She’d dropped her guard and she’d looked about the room. He had sooo many books. She wanted to get at them, to find out what was between their pages. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had been comfortable. She’d even smiled. He’d made a joke about all the apologies and she’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>smiled</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’d been kind, trying to put her at ease, offering her cake, apologizing for intruding in her dreams, understanding about her home and her sanctuary. Then there was that one moment… the one where their eyes had met after his joke, and there was something </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span> and she’d felt all warm and her heart had sped up and … It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> strange. She couldn’t let it happen again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she suddenly realized she’d stopped moving at some point. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She took the time to take a breath and calm her pounding heart, near the edge of the space between Ghilan’nain’s grove and Andruil’s. Best not to be seen out of breath, or disheveled. She would go past her bower on the way to report to Andruil. The familiar place would help her to calm herself, to present herself better to the huntress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She forced herself to walk with a calm, measured pace towards the bower. She went over the events of the day, trying to figure when things went from ‘I’m sitting here because you will open the package, I can observe, and then promptly leave’, to ‘I’m sitting here for other reasons’. She would not think about what those other reasons might be. Even contemplating that other reasons existed started this sort of wild panic in her mind and fluttering in her belly that she absolutely would not think about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So when did it start? Long fingers untying the ribbon, the message with all the innuendo, the frilly cakes, his eyes on hers, his eyes on her mouth. Her heart was pounding again and she couldn’t seem to calm the blush racing across her skin. She was fairly certain she was blushing </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It had just been a </span>
  <em>
    <span>look, </span>
  </em>
  <span>right? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, she couldn’t for a minute make herself believe that. She’d seen Ishan look at Roga like that, and she knew what it meant. It was ridiculous to think that he’d thought of </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> that way. No, he must have been thinking of the huntress. The gift was from her after all and her innuendo had made her intent </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite </span>
  </em>
  <span>clear. Was she going to throw off Ghilan’nain, or did the two have an agreement?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took three tries to lower her wards, with all the thoughts buzzing around the back of her mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they finally came down she rushed into her little nook at the back of the space and tried to calm her mind with deep breaths. It helped a little. She felt the blush recede a bit, but the tips of her ears still felt pink and so did her cheeks. She needed a distraction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She cast about for some work to do. Quick but engaging work that wouldn’t delay her reporting to Andruil, but would engage her mind. She shuffled some prophet’s laurel aside,</span>
  <em>
    <span> ‘No, that takes focus…’</span>
  </em>
  <span> The parchment under it was an order from another healer for one of Lahtara’s more well known concoctions, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Too involved. I need quick…’</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes lit upon a wrapped package tied with a jade green ribbon. That had come the day after the horrible tea and she’d forgotten to open it. Thinking it a delivery of felandaris she’d ordered she carefully untied the ribbon and unfolded the silver cloth wrapping the package. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gasped and jumped back staring at what was most definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a box of herbs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stages of Social, Mental and Magical Development in young Elvhen: A 2,000 Year Study” was looking back at her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was the book she’d tried to ‘borrow’. Her heart was pounding. There was a letter attached to the cover.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After the letter from Andruil she’d had to listen to earlier, she wasn’t sure she should open it. Still it was addressed to her, with her actual name, not the one Andruil had given her. “An’da” was written across the front of the folded parchment in careful elegant script. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She picked up the letter and read. As was the case with most things in Elvhenan, it was magical and she heard his voice in her ear as she read. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An’da, It has been brought to my attention that this book may benefit the families under your care.” His voice was rich and warm and too close, “Consider this an apology for intruding on your sanctuary, and a token that I will keep my distance as agreed. When you have finished the book, simply place it on your work table with a crystal grace bloom on top. One of my people will collect it and return it to its owner. Sincerely, Solas.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hearing his voice deep and warm in her ear had her blushing all over again. She had to put the note down and step away. Backing away from it as though it might bite, she left her little office and returned to her work table hoping to find something distracting that wouldn’t speed her pulse. When nothing immediately presented itself she resigned herself to going to Andruil as a blushing mess.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stepped out of the bower door and collided with a wall of muscle and armor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strong hands grasped her biceps and pushed her off, “Well, Felasil, I see you haven’t learned to look where you’re going just yet.” The huntress’ voice was it’s usual slow drawling purr. “I was impatient to hear how the wolf received my gift so I came to see you.” She led An’da back into the bower and put up her own wards against eavesdropping.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da kept her eyes to the floor, grateful that her blush might be attributed to the gaffe of running into an Evanuris and not to how a certain wolf’s voice affected her. “How may I help you, Mistress?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You will remember my instructions and you will report.” The Evanuris’ voice had lost the laziness and was cold and direct now, An’da’s vallaslin began to hum and as the geas from the other night was activated she suddenly remembered Andruil’s instructions. Oh hell, she was going to tell her everything, from the fade meeting to how it felt when his eyes met hers...No, no, no.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tried to start the report from when she was introduced outside his office, but the vallaslin hummed threateningly and forced her to her knees, then it took over her speech, and everything came tumbling out in a cold dispassionate voice An’da didn’t recognize as her own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andruil asked questions to clarify and she could not evade or prevaricate, everything she knew, everything she saw, everything she </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span> was laid out for the huntress to hear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she’d spoken so long her voice was raw and there was nothing left to say, the huntress reached down and helped her stand. Then she crooked a finger and used her knuckle it to lift An’da’s face, bringing them eye to eye. “I’m glad you tried to resist, little one, it means your ties to him are genuine. They need to be, or he will detect you. I won’t even punish you for it </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> time. You’re doing very well. The wolf is very intrigued indeed, but he is cautious as well. He is looking for weaknesses in your story. There will be none, of course, I’ve made sure of it. You will of course forget this conversation and instructions once I leave, little doll. You will think you’ve followed my instructions to the letter and I am pleased.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andruil turned to go, taking her time dispelling her wards and resuming her lazy assessing demeanor. An’da tried to get a hold of herself. She couldn’t keep doing this, she didn’t want to be someone’s puppet. What could she do? Her eyes cast back and forth as she tried to think quickly, she wasn’t sure how long she’d remember this. Her eyes landed on a letter on the floor. It must have fallen there when she’d backed out of her office. The letter! She hadn’t reported on it. She hadn’t had to report on it! She….</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What had she been thinking about again? Hadn’t she been about to report to Andruil? No, she’d seen the huntress. Had she reported about… yes, she had. Andruil had been pleased. That was a relief. She took a deep breath and noted that the sun was setting, where had the time gone? She needed to get through the kitchens to grab dinner before there was too mad of a rush. She dashed to her office nook and grabbed her new book, intending to spend the night reading and taking extensive notes. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The More Potent Materials</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Solas visits An'da's bower hoping to convince Andruil he's been properly hooked and is more convincing than he'd planned.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes, two chapters at once... because... why not?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He had been sitting on his balcony with Dirthamen when she’d finally opened the book. The magic in the letter had alerted him the moment she picked it up to read. He had smiled softly to himself and returned to his attention to the man across from him and his concerns about the stirrings of the nameless ones to the west.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been a few days, and his agent had informed him that An’da had fallen asleep with his book and piles of notes the past few nights. He was pleased that his gift would be of benefit to others, even while he smiled at the thought of her dozing with a quill in her hand and the book on her lap. Shaking the image away he proceeded along his intended path. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Today he was visiting her healing bower under the auspices of examining the herbs and roots available in Andruil’s realm. The huntress had suggested it during their tea a few weeks prior. He had decided to make this visit the day after An’da delivered the cakes, but it wouldn’t do to look too eager. Whoever was luring him in, needed to believe this was real. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Entering Andruil’s domain he was met at the edge of the grove by a huntress who appeared to be on watch. She was tall, as tall as him and broad shouldered with flaming red hair pulled back in many braids. Judging by the variety of beads in her hair she was well respected, had served long, and had great standing amongst Andruil’s people.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had taken this path specifically so he would be met by a guard. He wanted word of his presence to reach Andruil. Let her know her trap was working. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“On dhea,” he greeted her, “I am looking for your healer, can you guide me to her?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tall huntress eyed him cautiously, as though he might bite, but she nodded wordlessly and walked away her hand pointedly on a long dagger at her side. They both knew it to be a pointless threat, she’d be stone before she so much as unsheathed the blade.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He assumed he was meant to follow. She walked on silently for a few minutes before turning to him, “May I ask, Ser Wolf, what one of your standing wants with our humble healer?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was cautious, he wondered what her interest was. “Your mistress implied that I might find healing herbs on her lands that my own cannot provide. She invited me to examine what your healer had to offer.” The more interested he seemed the better for this little illusion, “I have heard your healer is quite skilled, how long has she been with your household.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She has been with us more than half a century.” The tall woman only gave the barest amount of information called for. It left him very little to work with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is quite a short period of service. Why would your mistress choose to bring such an untried servant to a gathering such as this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I cannot begin to guess at my Lady’s intentions,” she responded dryly. Excellent, she was a font of information, he did not think he’d be getting far with her. Something about her tone and her words though was reminiscent of Felassan. Were they close? Perhaps this huntress knew An’da well, he would have to ask his agents for her name. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he was casting about for how to get more information from the taciturn huntress, the healer’s bower came into sight. It was built beneath two giant spruces near the far edge of Andruil’s grove, against the outer wall of the palace. It was a pergola, grown over with vining white flowers and thick velvety dark green foliage for privacy. She had hung it with drying herbs, and placed a stone work table near the front entrance. There were shelves along the sides holding a surprising array of vials, jars, and packets. A few sick beds were arrayed behind the table and it appeared that she had partitioned off a small space at the back with hanging cloths for an office of sorts or maybe a private changing area for those she treated. He couldn’t quite see from this distance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What he could see however, was An’da. She was carefully stripping the leaves off the stem of some prophet’s laurel and chatting with a serving man leaning against her work station. He must have said something funny, because she laughed openly. The sight of her relaxed and open, eyes sparkling as she unashamedly laughed with this young elvhen almost stopped him physically in his tracks. She truly was stunning, and judging by the look on his face, the young man agreed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And who was this young man? He felt his eyes narrow as he took in the gentleman shamelessly flirting with a practically bonded woman. He was tall, even by elvhen standards and he wore the vallaslin of Mythal. What was he doing in Andruil’s grove?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had been so focused on the scene in front of him that he failed to note his guide had stopped and was gesturing to the bower one eyebrow raised, whether in question, censure, or disdain he couldn’t tell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He inclined his head, hoping she had noticed his distraction, it would go a long way to convincing Andruil that he was indeed intrigued. “Thank you for your assistance.” He placed his hands behind his back and stilled his features before calmly wandering up to the laughing couple ahead of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, he really did!” He heard the youth insist once he was within earshot. An’da shook her head, disbelief clear on her face as she expertly and mindlessly cut the leaves of the prophet’s laurel from their stems. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She arched an eyebrow at him and angled her head just so, making her doubt clear without having to speak at all. The twinkle in her eye and the quirk of her mouth giving away her amusement. She liked him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He did! Ghimyean picked up the baby dragon and -” the tall servant stopped mid sentence the moment he noticed the wolf approaching. He straightened to his full height and bowed deeply to the Evanuris. An’da’s brow furrowed for a moment at the sudden interruption and then her eyes went wide at the sight of him. He regretted that the spark left them as she immediately bowed her head in deference. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, don’t stop on my account,” he said, directing his attention to the youth, sending the impossibly tall youth running with just a glance and an arched eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My apologies, My Lord, I have duties to attend to,” he muttered quickly and with one last longing look at An’da he darted off. Leaving Solas alone with the healer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>_____________</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isenam had started coming by her bower shortly after the ‘tea’ incident. She remembered him from serving in the main hall, and had appreciated his jokes and his unassuming nature, despite the fact that his height often left her with a crick in her neck after their conversations. He was a runner for Mythal and whenever there was a need for a message or item to be brought to Andruil’s grove, he found an excuse to stop by and pass on gossip from the other groves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had been enjoying his impossible tale of Ghimyean and the baby dragon. It was utter nonsense of course, a story being told by someone who’d only heard it third hand, but it had been ridiculous and wild and she had enjoyed the humour in it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t noticed the wolf approaching until Isenam had stopped mid-sentence and given a deep bow. She watched as Solas approached and while his words said, “Don’t stop on my account,” his eyes and his manner said that is exactly what he expected. Neither Isenam nor An’da were in a position to do other than expected, and the wolf knew it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She found herself irritated with him and his presumption, but squashed it quickly and reminded herself that he was Evanuris, he could presume all he wanted. And to think she had been thinking fondly of him since their last encounter. Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>fondly, mind you. Just not terrified or... angry at. Like… maybe he was a half-decent person. Nothing more, definitely not. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe there had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>dream, a warm thing where he… nope, that never happened it was just a dream. She had stayed up too late that night reading the book he’d sent, and the note had fallen out of it’s pages, and re-read itself when she picked it up, and his voice all warm and soft in her ear had led to dreams she would not otherwise have had. Besides she had put the whole thing firmly behind her. Which was why she was thinking about it now? </span>
  <em>
    <span>’Pull yourself together, An’da!’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was standing there, probably watching her with his intense stare, but she couldn’t really tell as she was determined to keep her eyes on her work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Did he give everyone that look? No, he hadn’t given it to Andruil before, or Isenam just now. Maybe it was just the serving staff, or suspected thieves. No, they’d cleared that up….</span>
  <em>
    <span>’An’da, you’re rambling!’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>If he was just going to continue staring like that she’d lose control of her mouth and…</span>
  <em>
    <span>’Say something!’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you, My Lord?” There, that was better. She sounded much more in control than she felt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walked up to her table, his strides languorous and a little predatory. She supposed he was a wolf, after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was told I could examine the medicinal plants available in your territories. Your mistress and I agreed that if I were to find something I was interested in we would re-open our negotiations. I am here to determine if that will be necessary.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da was relieved to hear that he had a perfectly reasonable reason for being here. She would just show him what grew on Andruil’s estate and he’d be on his way. She wouldn’t have time to get comfortable and start smiling at the man again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Not a man! An Evanuris, you cannot afford to forget the difference.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>She gratefully acknowledged the wiser part of her mind, with a nod. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As you will,” she replied and gestured to the shelves to her right, “Most of what grows on Andruil’s main estate is dried and stored along here and the bottom left of the shelf at the back.” She hoped that would be enough. He could show himself around and she could keep her mind and her eyes on her work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, just to the left of the bower and behind where he’d stopped in his path before. A pair of hunters underneath a tree, ostensibly playing a game involving knives. Only they kept playing the same moves over and over. That was his audience. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t enjoyed sending An’da’s companion away. That was not entirely accurate, he had enjoyed it, though he wished he did not. What he found truly irritating was that she was back to averting her gaze and trying to avoid his presence. He understood the why of it, but that didn’t make it any easier to take. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d rather she not fear him. Besides, he had to convince his audience that there was something growing between the two of them. And he wasn’t going to be able to do that if An’da kept her eyes glued to the table in front of her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He entered her bower and followed her instructions to find the shelf in the back stocked with rows of dried herbs in neatly labeled bottles. Her writing was a clear and flowing, delicate script that made it impossible to mistake the ingredients in each bottle. Everything here was commonly available anywhere in Elvenhan, and she likely knew it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He continued to peruse the shelves, moving closer and closer to An’da as he did, making sure his eyes were obviously drawn to her and that his observers noted it. Again, none of the items here were spectacular. It was unlikely she’d keep precious or valuable things on an open shelf like this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was doing entirely too well at ignoring his presence, while he wandered her workspace. He needed her to respond to him, to get a reaction. Silently hoping she’d forgive him later, he decided on a course of action. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes perusing the shelf closest to her he turned to her and made a show of letting his eyes travel over her, from the pointed tip of her ear, across the curve of her jaw, the soft swell of her lips, he may have lingered there overlong, he did want to sell the idea of his interest after all, down the slender column of her neck across the swell of -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you with something else?” She turned suddenly towards him, her blade pointed at him and her eyes fixed on his own in challenge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was hoping so,” he took a step closer, gently grabbing the wrist holding the knife and easily disarming her with his other hand. He didn’t think she’d intended to threaten him with it, more likely she’d forgotten it was in her hand. He held her there for longer than was strictly necessary, watching as she stiffened and her eyes widened. He absentmindedly ran a thumb across the soft inside of her wrist, pleased when he noted a hitch in her breathing. Their audience couldn’t help but think there was more going on. He almost believed it himself.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I noted the herbs on the shelves you mentioned are all relatively common. Where would you keep the more potent materials?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The more potent materials?” she repeated after him as she stared up at him. He had found himself caught in her impossible silver jade eyes. She bit her lip then, drawing his eyes, and he couldn’t help but contemplate it’s taste. He found himself pulled towards her, his mouth just a breath away from hers, when she’d abruptly stepped back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was surprised by how quickly sense returned with just a few feet of distance between them. His pounding pulse told him just how close he’d come to making a serious mistake. At least, his audience would report it was believable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The herbs, the uncommon ones,” he hinted at her, “where do you keep them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She blinked at him as if momentarily confused before she gave a little shake and he could see the instant she understood, “Oh… uh, of course, those are in the back.” She gestured to the nook behind the curtain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah, so it was an office of sorts. He was curious to see it, and if they both disappeared into the back the hunters observing them could draw their own conclusions. He could keep his distance from - </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All thoughts fled instantly from his mind as she began unwrapping her shawl. Her long elegant fingers untying the knot and exposing delicate collar bones and the hollow of her neck. When her fingers reached for the ties of her tunic he was certain parts of his mind simply turned off, while other parts of his anatomy became increasingly interested. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she simply drew a chain with a small key from out of her shirt, he suppressed a groan. He silently admonished himself for being so easily worked up. By the void he was thousands of years old. He’d had women, and men, in a variety of carnal positions while fully nude. This woman was fully dressed and just trying to give him a key. He silently gave thanks for the centuries of training he had at hiding his thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She held out the key on it’s chain and he silently took it from her. “They’re in the cabinet on the desk. Please be careful and put them back where you’ve found them. Sometimes I have to reach for them blindly in an emergency and if they’re not where I always keep them… I wouldn’t want to accidentally poison someone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded in understanding and left for her back room without a word. She was clearly much more composed than he was. He didn’t know whether to curse the fact or be grateful that at least one of them had some composure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had felt the wolf pacing behind her, but had kept her eyes on her work. She’d mangled a few of the leaves, but they’d still work in a decoction if she prepared the water before the day was through. She’d have sworn she could feel his eyes on her as he examined her stock. She knew there was nothing there that wasn’t common to all of Elvenhan. She’d hoped he’d note that quickly and be on his way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing in this palace ever worked the way she hoped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he’d finished scanning the last and nearest of the shelves she’d noticed he’d turned to face her. Again she could have sworn she felt his eyes on her. It was the strangest sensation, so slight as to be almost imperceptible, but still present, warm and light on her skin. It had taken all of her concentration to ignore it, though she was certain she was blushing regardless. She had convinced herself it was a product of her imagination. She had thought she’d just continue with her work and he’d tire of staring, or he’d speak, or he’d leave. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had been trying her best to stay focused on her prophet’s laurel while the warm almost sensation intensified and she could almost trace its path, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘tip of the ear, down the blade, along the jaw’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>The blush started somewhere between the middle of her ear and her lips. She had wanted to stop what she was doing, put her fingers there to assure herself there was nothing truly happening, but she willed herself to stay focused. The sensation continued down her neck towards her, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Do something before you blush yourself into ash!’ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you with something else?” She had surprised herself with the challenge in her voice as she’d turned on him so suddenly.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was hoping so,” She watched him warily as he took a step closer, one eyebrow raised. When he’d reached out she froze, realizing rather belatedly that she’d essentially pulled a knife on one of the Evanuris. Then his thumb began tracing across her wrist and she knew he said more, his full lips kept moving, but too many of his words escaped her.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The more potent materials?” she repeated the part she understood. Her mouth had gone dry and she was pretty sure most thought had fled at the soft touch of his hand on her inner wrist and he wasn’t stopping. She bit her lip trying to make her mind form thoughts. His blue grey eyes were trained on hers and that heat from the other day was there again and he was coming closer. She could feel his breath on her mouth. It would be so much easier to think if he would stop the wrist thing, or the eye thing, or the lip thing. Maybe all three. Yes, she’d really like them all to stop. Wouldn’t she? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She pulled her hands from his and took a step back and the deepest breath she could manage. Yes, there. That’s where the thoughts lived. Now she just had to find a few coherent ones to string together. What had he just asked? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The herbs, the uncommon ones. Where do you keep them?” She was uncommonly grateful that he spoke again. Deciphering his words kept her focused on her mind and not the sensations that had overwhelmed her moments before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.. of course, those are in the back.” She tried to direct his attention to the back room with a gesture, but his eyes remained fixed on hers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Key, he’d need the key. She was most definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>going back there with him. He was seven kinds of dangerous and she needed to keep her distance. She concentrated on unwinding her shawl, it was too hot in here anyway, and pulling the key and it’s chain from around her neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time she was holding it out to him she felt a bit less shaky and he looked as unruffled as a stone. She gave him a quick warning about putting things back where they belong. He nodded and disappeared without a word, his face completely placid. At least one of them had kept their calm.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Emergencies and Interruptions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An'da deals with an emergency and Solas helps.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW for medical cutting, pain... mild, but still there.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Solas had taken his first moments in her office area to calm his frayed nerves and return his heartbeat to normal. Then he’d taken a moment to examine the area. There was a little desk and a stool, the desk was cluttered and tiny and barely fit in the cramped space. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could only imagine what would have happened if she had come back here with him. He definitely wouldn’t be breathing as calmly as he was now; and anything the watchers in the courtyard thought would likely pale in comparison to what he would do with the healer in such a confined space. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reminded himself he was lucky she had not come back here. She was practically bonded, and she was obviously bait. The knowledge helped steady him some. That and the knowledge that he’d already given their audience plenty to pass on to their mistress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The key she’d supplied him with unlocked a small cupboard of sorts, with a handle on top. Perhaps it was meant to be carried with her when patients could not be moved. It seemed heavy for that. Maybe she had an assistant? He would have to ask.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in An’da’s office nook, examining her private stores, before he was startled by shouting in the yard outside. He’d quickly shut and locked her cabinet, pocketing the key as he rushed out into the main part of the healing bower. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two of Andruil’s servants were rushing towards the bower shouting for the healer, while bearing a third on a makeshift litter between them. An’da was already rushing out to meet them, her herbs and knife left unceremoniously on the table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watched as she led the worried elvhen into the bower and showed them where to lay their friend, all the while asking questions about the patient and his condition. The elvhen on the table was sweating profusely and moaning incoherently with pain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She quickly went to a wash basin and as she scrubbed her hands she peppered the healthy elves with more questions. Keeping them focused on her and not their ailing comrade. How long had he been like this? When did the pain start? What was he doing when it did? Where was the pain? What had he had to eat in the last 24 hours?  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Within moments she was at the older man’s bedside and the soft white glow of her magic began to suffuse her hands. Sending soft tendrils first into his mind to ease the pain, she sent more into his body scanning slowly downward from his chest to his navel, trying to find the source of the ailment. Her eyes closed, her head cocked to the side as if she were listening intently. Somewhere near his hips her brow furrowed and then her eyes popped open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She speared him with a gaze, “Open the cabinet. I need the Ghoul’s Beard and Elfroot mixture, second shelf, third vial from the right, two back. Understand?” He nodded and rushed to comply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Within a moment he was back to her, holding out the vial. She glanced quickly at it before shaking her head. “No, third from the right. This was fourth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Returning to her cabinet he saw that he had indeed miscalculated. Within minutes she had the correct vial, two drops on the man’s tongue had him unconscious instantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turning to the men who had brought him in, “That ought to keep him down, but I’ll need you two to hold him if he wakes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rushed to her work table, rolled up her sleeves, and opened a box. After selecting a small knife, she returned to the wash basin and began scrubbing it and her hands with soap. She turned back to him, “Remove his shirt. I need access to his lower abdomen.” He hurried to comply and within moments she was standing by his side and slicing into the man’s lower abdomen with her knife. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she judged the cut to be wide enough she put the knife aside and reached into her patient with her magic, hands hovering just a breath away from this skin. He followed the threads of her intent carefully, curious as always. Some of the threads reached out scanning the area looking for contamination and cleansing it away, while the main thrust of her focus arrowed in on a rupture somewhere in his gut. She removed a piece of tissue that had torn loose and used a tendril of her magic to pull it out through the slice she had made in his side. Then a quick and focused flash of heat. The rupture was quickly sealed then, and she used the remainder of her energy helping the man’s muscle and skin knit back together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew the moment she was done, her shoulders sagged and she let out a relieved breath. Turning to the worried elvhen with him, she nodded, “He’ll be okay. He needs to rest here for the next week, I need to watch him and administer tonics. Can you two cover for his work?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two nodded their assent and bowed deeply, thanking her for her work, and promising that no one would notice he wasn’t attending to his duties. They left in a grateful rush. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The moment they were out the door she collapsed unceremoniously onto a stool nearby. He could only imagine she was drained. The magic she had used, while not overtly powerful, had been delicate, precise, intricate, and controlled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walked around the table and moved a stool to her side. He found a clean empty bottle on her work station and conjured some cool clear water, handing it to her to drink before he sat at her side. He wished he could do more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was done, Lenan would live. She felt wrung out. All of the energy she’d put into healing him had left her hollow. Collapsing on a stool, she tried to gather her wits about her for the necessary clean-up before she went in search of a meal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When a cool bottle of water appeared before her she was a little startled. In her dazed, post adrenaline haze she took it. The first long cool drink helped immeasurably. When she opened her eyes and they were met with the wolf’s concerned blue-grey eyes she suddenly realized.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh Creators! He’d been here the whole time. And she’d ordered him about like an apprentice. She’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>ordered</span>
  </em>
  <span> an Evanuris about. Fenhedis! She braced herself for his reaction. What was he going to do about the affront.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She braced herself for his response. Nothing happened for a few long minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When would he realize what had happened? She waited for the outrage, the affronted ire… Nothing. He simply sat quietly next to her, apparently lost in thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did you do with the flash of heat?” He asked, breaking the tense silence. Curiosity about her methods had not been on her list of potential responses. This was an odd day and she was too exhausted to question it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A carefully applied burn can close the ends of the blood vessels. It stopped him from bleeding too much. The more blood he keeps inside and untainted, the faster he’ll heal.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His brow furrowed for a moment, before he nodded. Then he had another question, “The first vial I brought to you, what would it do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That one thins the blood, for people who have clots of it stuck when it should flow freely.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another furrowed brow and another nod. Then it was like a dam loosed in him and a river of questions flowed forth, followed by observations of his own and Mythal's healers, and suggestions of what might aid her in the future. Speculations about possible herb combinations that might assist her to heal the patient without using so much of her own mana. Training exercises that might strengthen her magical skills, make the healing less draining on her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>greatly </span>
  </em>
  <span>appreciated that he was overlooking her earlier response to him. She also appreciated his curiosity and some of his ideas had real potential. His understanding of the elvhen body was better than she would have expected, given his position and lack of need for such knowledge.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before she knew it, she was engrossed in a long medical discussion while she cleaned up her work area. What was more surprising than his knowledge and interest in her craft, was that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>helped</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cleaned off her surgical knife magically before handing it to her, corked the vial she’d used and returned it to its place, assuring her (in between questions, of course) that he returned it to its </span>
  <em>
    <span>correct</span>
  </em>
  <span> location. She made a note to double check later. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lenan would sleep for the next 12 hours or so, based on the dose she’d given him. She would be living here for the next two or three days until she was confident he was out of the woods. The only thing left that needed doing before she could go grab some food and a nap, would be to boil up the prophet’s laurel she’d mangled earlier. Sadly, it would lose potency if it had to wait overnight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Solas was leaning against her work table, explaining how his healer had used a similar cauterizing technique on more intense battlefield injuries during the last war with the nameless ones. While he did so she listened intently, occasionally interjecting with technical questions about the duration or intensity of the heat required and how the patients had responded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Setting a small pot on a brazier she summoned a small trickle of mana to fill it with water when she felt a gentle hand on her arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop,” his voice was commanding, and she startled. Her mana fled and she was looking at the ground instantly again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” his voice immediately gentled, a crooked finger coming up under her chin and lifting her head, “No… I don’t require...” his voice was thick with some emotion she couldn’t quite name. “You need never avert your eyes in my presence,” he finally finished.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somewhere she found the courage in her to look up and into his eyes, there was something in them. Something she couldn’t name, wasn’t sure she wanted to name, something that warmed her heart and made her feel almost brave. His steel blue eyes captured hers and wouldn’t let go. She gave him a nod, she found she couldn’t speak right at that moment, but it felt like something important had shifted in her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She turned her attention back to the brazier, but before she could even begin to cast, his hand was on her arm again, “I had hoped you’d let me do that. I’d prefer you not exhaust yourself. Your mana is dangerously low. You need a meal and a bed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was not wrong, but she shouldn’t leave until this last task was completed and these leaves were tricky. They required a precise temperature for boiling for a very specific amount of time, too long on the boil and they were useless, too short a time and they wouldn’t have the desired effect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just that if I don’t boil these today they’ll lose their potency, and it a rather precise process, and-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cut her off, “And you’re concerned I am not up to the task. I assure you this is something I can do. I will mind your leaves. Please, go find yourself something filling. I will only start the water boiling. You can return and tend to the rest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t exactly argue with an Evanuris, despite how much she wanted to in that moment. Nodding her agreement, while biting back a thousand arguments, she grabbed her shawl and headed off towards the kitchens; leaving the wolf in her bower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>______</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watched her leave and didn’t bother to hide it as his eyes followed her departing form. His audience had moved to another location, but they were still present. Best to let them get an eyeful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had surprised him today. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew she was a healer and many had told him of her skill, but until he had seen her he hadn’t truly understood. She was a different person in a crisis, incredibly level headed, skilled and knowledgeable too. She didn’t hide or cast her eyes aside. She knew her strengths and she didn’t hesitate. She had ordered him about like a servant, when another’s life was on the line.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the woman who would have faced down an Evanuris over a child’s welfare. This was the piece of the puzzle he’d been missing, or one of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, if only he could believe a fully grown griffon needed a child’s protection, and hadn’t eaten said child, then he might be able to believe she was real.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shook off the questions that circled his mind whenever she was involved, and he set about filling the little pot with conjured water, when he was interrupted by an unknown hunter approaching the work station. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you with something, My Lord?” Something in the man’s tone grated on Solas’ nerves. He looked up to find a dark haired elf bowing slightly from the other side An’da’s work table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I believe I have this under control.” He arched an eyebrow and gave the man a cool assessing stare, hoping that the hunter would get the hint. The man was either completely obtuse or actually thought his presence would be welcome. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course Ser Wolf, I can see that. Only, if you would prefer I could fetch the healer for you. She shouldn’t be shirking her post like this, making you do your own…” he gestured vaguely at what Solas was doing, clearly incapable of adequately explaining what it was the wolf was doing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The temperature dropped by a few degrees in the bower. Had this man </span>
  <em>
    <span>dared</span>
  </em>
  <span> to insult someone who had just drained themselves dry to save another. “The healer has left on </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> orders. She should be doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> as she had been asked, and she is. Do you make it a habit of disparaging those in whose hands you may one day find your life?” He filled his voice with all the venom he could muster and let his eyes flash with his power. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hunter visibly swallowed and ducked a small bow muttering apologies, before leaving him alone with his thoughts.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How did she get a moment’s peace with all these interruptions, first the lanky servant of Mythal’s obviously flirting with her, then himself, the ill man laying in the back, and now that detestable vermin. He was pleased that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> could be of assistance to her at least. He made a note to check up on her latest distraction, something about the man made him wary. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Returning to his task, he conjured a small flame and set it to burning beneath the pot. Then, just as he was about to begin adding the first of the leaves another voice interrupted his thoughts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My apologies for interrupting you, Ser Wolf, but I’ve come to remind you of the dinner you have scheduled for this evening,” he recognized Areina’s voice instantly. She was nothing if not cooly efficient, and terrified of the outside world. If his assistant had left the grove then he was likely already late. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had forgotten his invitation to Arlanan’s home in the city. The man clearly had hopes that his daughter would capture the wolf’s eye. And while that was unlikely, the man also had valid concerns about a trader in the city and outlaws harrying his estates. As reluctant as he was to go, his dinner companions could not be put off indefinitely. He would have to leave before An’da returned.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Reports and Girl Talk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Andruil gets a report. An'da and Rogasha have some bonding time.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one would not come together right.  So here it is, as put together as I could make it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>By the time she returned with a bowl of roasted vegetables and some bread, he was gone. Her bower was enclosed in an unfamiliar ward that melted at her touch. On her work table, the little brazier was burning nicely and the pot above had just begun to boil. She smiled softly to herself thinking of the wolf and his unexpected kindness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She began settling the prophet’s laurel in the bubbling water after testing the temperature of the steam. Then she set out another pot and some cheesecloth to strain the leaves with, taking breaks to eat or to stir the rapidly softening leaves in between each action. She was busy, but it felt good to be useful. Keeping a close eye on the leaves (they were almost ready) she did a quick check on her patient. He was resting comfortably and breathing well, his pulse was strong. She wouldn’t need to check on him again for a few hou-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A voice from behind her cut into her thoughts. “Felasil, you’ve been busy I hear,” Andruil said, her voice deceptively gentle. A cold dread shivered down her spine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turning to face her mistress she bowed and waited for instructions. The huntress’ statement hadn’t exactly been a question and she wasn’t brave enough to assume it needed an answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She could see the huntress prowling towards her, one slow step at a time, and saw a flash of magic as they were suddenly encased in a privacy ward. The ward shrank against her back and drew her closer to the Evanuris. Then her vallaslin began to hum and she broke out in a cold sweat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Report,” Andruil ordered, her voice hard. “Everything.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da began to tremble as the memories of the beginning of her compulsion and everything she’d shared with the huntress since, came rushing back to her. Her vallaslin felt too tight on her skin as the geas took over and she began speaking, her voice dispassionate, the words not her own, but pulled directly from her experience. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the words tumbled out, the huntress would pause and comment, as if to herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The wolf’s arrival and dismissal of Isenam earned her a cold, calculating grin and a purred, “The wolf is jealous, perfect”. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reports of feeling his gaze, drew a “Now, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> interesting,” from Anduil’s lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Telling of his hand on hers, his thumb tracing her wrist, gained a satisfied hum and cruel thin lipped smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Detailed explanations of how she responded in those moments, how she had </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span>, things she would never have shared, came pouring out of her mouth, leaving her laid bare before those cold cruel eyes and the mocking chuckle that each admission brought from the huntress.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she was rung dry and all the words had been ripped from her mind, the huntress nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well done, Felasil, you’re bringing the old wolf nicely to heel. I think next time, you will let him get just a bit closer.” The new instructions fell into her mind worming their way in against her will. “Now forget.” She finished. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da’s vallaslin gave a strong thrum and she was left staring blankly at the corner of her work desk as the huntress dispelled the wards and stalked out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An’da! An’da!” Strong hands were shaking her, and who was yelling her name. She shook her head and blinked her eyes. What had she been doing? And what was that terrible smell?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh no! The prophet’s laurel!!!” She shook out of Rogasha’s grasp and ran to the smoking pot on the brazier, quickly dousing the flames. Somehow it had boiled itself dry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she had just left it moments ago...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An’da forget the damn plants. What happened to you?” Rogasha’s face came into view hovering with a look of genuine fear. That was enough to bring An’da back to the moment, why was her friend so scared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Happened? Nothing happened to me. I was boiling…” she gestured hopelessly at the charred and smoking mass of leaves at the bottom of the little pot, “that. It was almost ready. I made a quick check on Lenan and then you were shaking me. Why were you shaking me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were staring, just standing and staring when I came in. You wouldn’t respond to anything. Not hello, not waving hands, not a cloth to the face,” she pointed to a rag laying near An’da’s feet, as evidence that she had indeed thrown something at her, “nothing. Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe we should get one of the healers from the other groves to come see to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Roga, I’m fine, really. That,” she gestured again at her burning failure, “is a disappointment, but I feel totally fine.” She looked outside then and noticed it was full dark. Okay, that was worrying. The sun had only just begun to set when she had gone to check on Lenan, and hadn’t she lost a bit of time a few days ago? She’d almost missed grabbing her dinner. “Okay, maybe I’m missing a little time, here and there.” She hadn’t realized she’d spoken the thought aloud until her friend responded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Missing a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little </span>
  </em>
  <span>time? Here and there?” Rogasha affixed her with a stern stare, “People don’t just go missing time, An’da. You can’t misplace it, it’s not an earring or a hair toggle.” Her friend moved around to pat reassuringly at An’da’s back, “I hear Ghilan’nain’s healer is practically a miracle worker. We’ll go over in the morning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” her voice came out harsher than she intended. She wasn’t sure why but something about seeing a healer suddenly had a cold fear crawling at the back of her neck. Softening her tone, she continued, “No, but I promise if it happens again I will go see someone, okay?” At Rogasha’s unconvinced nod, she continued, “What brings you by today... er this evening?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rogasha relaxed a little at the question, but continued to eye the healer warily as she went to sit on one of the unoccupied cots. “It was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> day, I heard about Lenan and knew you’d be here all night. It seemed like we both needed a visit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da smiled fully at that, she did indeed need a visit. She wandered over and flopped herself down next to her friend, leaning in for a hug. When the taller woman put her arm around her they both sighed with contentment at the exact same moment, and then broke into surprised laughter at the timing of their shared relief. It had been too long since they’d been able to talk alone. The night of her injuries didn’t count, in her mind, as she’d been too distracted to really listen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the laughter had settled, An’da curled up next to her friend and waited. Roga rarely admitted to any frustrations, even something as simple as ‘a long day’. When she did, the best thing for her was silence. Then eventually all the words would come spilling out. The older woman needed an outlet from time to time.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I miss Ishanmis,” Rogasha’s deep husky voice, practically whispered, when the silence had worked its magic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, love,” An’da replied with a sigh, “of course you do! I bet he’s going crazy missing you, too.” She thought back to how the giant hunter always stood taller and prouder when Roga was in the room, how Roga glowed when his eyes met hers. She recalled the times she had seen that ‘look’ pass between the two of them, and known she wouldn’t be able to find either one the rest of the day. “You two are so well matched, you make him so proud. Just imagine the reunion!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her friend laughed heartily at that, “That’s my problem. Imagining the </span>
  <em>
    <span>reunion</span>
  </em>
  <span> just makes waiting all the harder. We’ve weathered longer times apart. I don’t know what it is about this time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Poor Roga,” she shifted behind the older woman and began plaiting a small section of her flame colored hair, “would it help to talk about him?” It would be easier for Rogasha to talk if she didn’t have to look at anyone. She would never admit it, but the huntress was shy when it came to talking about matters of the heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What would I say? What is there that you don’t already know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da thought for a minute while she mindlessly combed off another section of her friend’s hair to plait. “Well, I’ve always wanted to know how you knew… I mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> knew, that bonding was right for you two. I mean, it’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>permanent</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I can’t imagine ever doing it myself. But you and Ishan… It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. How did you know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A quiet chuckle came from roga before she responded, “He was smitten from the start. He says I was ‘Magnificent’.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da sighed at that, and the obvious waves of contentment, love, and pride coming off her friend. “Of course you’re magnificent! Who could doubt it?” She gave Roga a little shove, and the larger woman just laughed at her, as immovable as a stone, “But how did </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For me it took longer, and it wasn’t just one moment. There was that adjustment period, getting to know who was friend and who was foe. Who could I trust with myself, with my words. I didn’t think the glowering giant was a safe bet, even if he was deliciously sexy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da felt herself blush and also grimace, thinking of Ishanmis in that way was not something she relished. Yes, he was handsome, but… “Stop making that face,” Rogasha chided her, “He’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> brother!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what changed things for you? When did you realize you could trust him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was maybe a decade or so after I came to the estate that Mathalin somehow figured out that I’d been born, Rasenor,” her lips thinned at this before she continued. “Ishan had me summoned, let Mathalin deliver his little speech about deceiving the hunters, saying I had a history of delusions, and was a danger to the group. I should be moved to the men’s dormitory, etc. I could only imagine what he had planned if <em>that</em> had gone his way.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da grimaced, Mathalin had been an evil stain even back then. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rogasha continued her story, “Ishan just leveled a look at me and asked, ‘Who are you?’ You know him, never going to use ten words when three will do. The way he said it, as if it had never been a question for him, who I was, or what I was. I said ‘I am Rogasha, huntress of Andruil,’ I was about to say more, but he stopped us both with a nod, and said, ‘Understood,’ as if that was all that needed to be said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Then he dismissed Mathalin. I was just about to go when he spoke again, ‘You are indeed brave, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Galanorelan.’”  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rogasha sighed a little before continuing. “The way he called me ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>magnificent one’.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I practically melted into the floor right there.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She straightened then, “After that it was a series of other moments that all added up, his character showing itself again and again throughout the decades. I was already attracted to him, but that was when I first knew I could trust him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da sighed contentedly, happy for the couple. She couldn’t imagine what they would have become without the other. And despite the dangers that having a bondmate in servitude could bring, she understood why it was right for them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about you?” An’da was startled out of her thoughts, her hands momentarily stilling in the long plait she had been working on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about me? I’m not bonded.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The older woman laughed at her, “Obviously!” Then her voice became soft, “but we never talk about your life before you came to us. Did you have a love? And what ever happened to that person who got in your ‘personal space’ the other day?” she attempted to mimic An’da’s voice to rather humorous results.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da thought about it. She didn’t like to talk about her time before Andruil’s but the idea of sharing her moment with Solas earlier in the day had her flushing pink instantly. She was just glad she couldn’t be called to account for the flush in her face, since Rogasha had no eyes in the back of her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There was no one before. Well, I mean not </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” The last word turning into a question, as she realized she couldn’t think how to describe her distant memories of another life in another world. That was over hundreds of years ago now and so vague as to be like a dream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How is that a question?” Rogasha turned to her now, and there was no escaping her eyes, “You should know if there was someone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have these memories,” she replied, “vague distant things of before I was me, before I was a spirit even. I think I loved then, but the world was strange and different, and the life was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so very</span>
  </em>
  <span> short...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” said Rogasha, her spine straightening as she turned back to her friend, “You are spirit born?” She had latched on to the part An’da had least expected to cause interest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. That’s what you think to question? Not my crazy memories of another world?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” the older huntress said with utter certainty. “There have always been Elvhen who have had such dreams. Why should we assume ours is the only world? But the spirit born often take on forms that indicate their intentions in the world. What possessed you to take this one?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Implied in the question was that An’da’s form was not what one would choose if they were coming to live amongst the elvhen. She could see it from Rogasha’s perspective, the huntress valued physical strength, speed, agility, and her form reflected it. Some valued beauty and took on long graceful flowing forms, some valued grace and took on forms more prone to dancing, the variety was endless depending on the focus of the spirit choosing. She had meant no offense with her question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I wanted to learn and share discoveries” An’da replied, “This form was sensitive, exceptionally so; it seemed that would help me notice things that I could learn from. It was also really expressive too, and that seemed good for sharing information.” At this she shook her  head and grimaced, “I wish I had known where I’d end up and how badly I’d want to be able to hide a thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Any</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rogasha chuckled at that, but she nodded all the same, “You made the best choice for you at the time. It’s all any of us can do. Without it you would not be such a good healer. And I would have thought you had been a spirit of compassion!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve learned so much from Lahtara, maybe I’ve become one.” She smiled at the thought of her mentor. “besides, we take bodies so that we can become more than we were. In that, I’ve succeeded. Now I have new skills, new knowledge, friends, and a family,” She reached out and hugged Rogasha.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The older woman returned her hug. “Annoying family, that remembers you never answered about the man that made you blush the other night.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da didn’t need to answer anything, as her face did it for her. She blushed scarlet as an image of Solas’ grey-blue eyes staring intently at her mouth from earlier in the day flashed through her mind. Only this time her friend caught it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, now I have to know!” Rogasha teased, “You’ve just gone a shade of red, I didn’t think Elvhen could master without magic.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da did her best to level Rogasha with a glare, for all the good it did her. “I’m sure I’m misunderstanding things Roga. This isn’t like you and Ishan. No one has been instantly smitten. No one is even partially smitten. Really!” she added, when her friend raised a sardonic eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, is it that tall fellow? The one of Mythal’s that has been stopping by almost daily? Because if it is, there is no question about it. He is smitten.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da felt her face scrunch up as she tried to make sense of the unfamiliar idea, “Isenam?” Someone was smitten with her? That was odd. Why would that be? “No, I think you might be confused. He has deliveries to make from the main hall and the bower is near where he’s going. He’s just looking for a friendly face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rogasha watched as her friend denied that the tall servant of Mythal’s was interested in her and she realized that the healer hadn’t blushed at his mention. Whoever it was that had interested her, An’da didn’t feel comfortable sharing now, and she wouldn’t push her best friend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead they filled the rest of the night with comfortable conversation, tea, and laughs. Both of them enjoying that there was someone with whom they could truly relax.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Returning things.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An'da has a dream and Solas tries to stay away. (Spoiler alert: he fails)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Weeks had passed since the night An’da and Rogasha had spent talking away in the bower. Lenan had made a full recovery, was released back to light duty, and then full duty. His friends had stopped by with a thank you gift. It was a beautiful royal blue bit of sea glass for her braid, and she wore it with pride. </p><p>She had been pouring through her book on the development of Elvhen children and had filled almost an entire notebook with her thoughts. She had fallen asleep with it so many times Sah’rel had actually made a joke about it, saying that a book just couldn’t give her what she really needed. An’da had blushed at that, but she knew it was done in good humour, and she was mostly pleased that the newest servant was beginning to open up a little.</p><p>She had finally finished the book last night. This morning she had penned a quick note, thanking Solas for the time she had with the volume. She had placed it on the end of her work bench with a bloom of crystal grace, as instructed.</p><p>She may have listened to his note one more time before closing her bower for the day. She told herself that she had just wanted to ascertain if he had specified a place on the desk. But then she’d heard his warm voice practically brush against her ear, as he had in the library. Before she knew it she was blushing from head to toe. Images of his face so close to hers, his breath on her mouth went speeding through her mind.  </p><p>This hadn’t been the first either. Flashes of moments with the wolf had been difficult to dislodge. She wished she could just turn off that part of her mind. It couldn’t be good for her to blush that deeply that often. </p><p>One day, she’d been working on crushing herbs, when she’d suddenly seen a flash of his eyes as he’d rubbed his thumb across her wrist. </p><p>Later that same week, she’d been talking with Isenam on one of his many visits. He’d mentioned Silvun’s famed cakes, and her mind immediately brought her back to Solas’ gaze on her mouth after he’d opened the cakes, and the heat in his eyes. She’d blushed crimson then, as well.</p><p>Even a chat with Rogasha just the night before had led to her blushing furiously at the mere mention of ‘Mythal’s wolf’. Rogasha had looked at her quizzically then, and An’da had been afraid that she might tie this blushing to her earlier blushing about the ‘personal space invader’. She didn’t have any answers to the questions Roga might ask if she did make the connection.</p><p>Shaking off the annoying flashes, and the questions she didn’t want to ask, let alone anwer; she quickly warded the bower and went to bed. She’d been up later than expected and had to sneak through the room to her bed without waking any of her roommates.</p><p>An’da lay down, content that she’d returned the book, full of all she’d learned from it, and still slightly flushed from the sensations the note had conjured. Within moments she was asleep and dreaming. </p><p>She was back in her bower and Solas had just taken the knife from her hand, she could feel his thumb tracing across the inside of her wrist, and watched as he slowly stepped closer, his eyes fixed on her mouth. She couldn’t seem to keep her own eyes off his. He really did have an exceptional mouth, a nice full bottom lip…</p><p>And then his mouth was on hers. His lips just ghosting across her own and it was like every nerve ending in her body woke up all at once. Her eyes fluttered shut. She could feel his lips as they met hers again, his one hand coming up to cup her cheek while his other continued its caress of her wrist. When he pulled away for a moment she followed him, not wanting the moment to end. He chuckled slightly and she froze…</p><p>Something about the timbre of his voice was off. It was incredibly close, but it wasn’t quite right…</p><p>An’da was awake in a moment, bolting upright in a flash, the last image from the dream being the cheeky wink of a desire spirit as it dissipated. </p><p>“An’da?” a quiet voice whispered across the room. She’d woken Sah’rel. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, yes.. I’m fine. It was just a dream. Go back to sleep.”</p><p>She heard a quiet chuckle, “You’re just missing your book lover. We’ll have to find you another.”</p><p>An’da didn’t think Sah’rel knew how close to right she was.<br/>____<br/>Solas had been enjoying a breakfast alone on his balcony when Borean tripped the wards to return the healer’s book. He’d been pleased to see it returned, more pleased than he’d like to admit that it also came with a letter. </p><p>Opening it, he heard An’da’s velvety voice, clearly enchanted into the letter, and for his ears alone. </p><p>“Ma serranas for the loan of this wonderful volume. You don’t know how much this will benefit the families back home. I also wanted to thank you for your assistance with Lenan and for not taking me to task for ordering you about. You were extremely helpful, even after the danger had passed. Serranasan ma, hahren.” </p><p>He held the letter for sometime, running a finger along her clear delicate script. An image conjured to his mind of her at her work desk the light filtering through the vines above as she wrote this to him. He could almost see the thoughts as they passed over her face. </p><p>That was the wrong direction for his thoughts to take, as the previous image was quickly subsumed by the one he’d been struggling to be rid of for the last few weeks. Her wide eyes locked on his mouth as he drew closer, so close he could practically taste her.  </p><p>He hadn’t, of course. That was only a part of his problem. </p><p>He stood abruptly, heading inside to escape the images running through his mind. </p><p>He was certain that his interactions with An’da had been reported to Andruil by now. He’d given them enough to entice the huntress. Made it clear she was intriguing to him. </p><p>That was where his biggest problem lay. She was intriguing to him, too intriguing. Someone knew him too well, and it concerned him. He dropped the letter on his bedside table, hoping distance from it would help him distance his mind. </p><p>He’d gone about his business the past few weeks, meetings with Dirthamen and Sylaise, dinners with Isene, or any of the other nobles trying to curry favor. Breaks with Mythal in her private gardens. He’d done his best to stay focused on his work, and keeping the others focused elsewhere. </p><p>There were also disturbing reports that the nameless ones were beginning to regrow their influence on the edges of Elvhenan. That had taken precedence for them all while they discussed how to proceed. As was usual, there was very little agreement and in the end it was decided that they could not act so soon. Now was a time to gather information about the threat, and it was best not to let their enemies know they were aware.</p><p>The tactic was quite similar to what he was doing with Andruil. Give her time and space to show her hand. </p><p>He’d expected An’da to be dangled in front of him again rather quickly, but she had not appeared. No orders had sent her to his grove. In fact, according to his agent, no orders had sent her anywhere.</p><p>His agent amongst Andruil’s servants reported that she worked hard, was well loved, but was only close with a few; the tall, flame-haired huntress who’d led him to An’da’s bower, and Felassan. </p><p>His agent also reported that the tall servant of Mythal’s continued to be a frequent visitor for the healer, but that he did not appear to be receiving any sort of medical treatment. What was his purpose there?  Had Mythal also tasked someone with getting close to her? He could believe it. She was likely aware of her daughter's machinations. Perhaps, she too wanted more information. </p><p>There were too many very powerful people circling An’da for his liking. Like sharks that had scented blood. There had to be something he was missing.</p><p>What did they hope to gain? A long term mole in his household, someone to whom he would divulge his deepest secrets in some post coital haze? Unlikely. He’d never let secrets slip to any of the women sent to bed him. He wasn’t the sort to take a mate, and most certainly wasn’t going to take this slave girl to his bed, let alone into his heart. Everyone had an ulterior motive in Arlathan, everyone; and he was no fool.</p><p>Perhaps that was it? He hadn’t taken to any of the women or men paraded before him, in the past. Perhaps someone set her up as a puzzle, knowing he couldn’t pass up a mystery. If they did then the best course of action would be to leave her to her own devices. It would be the simplest plan to enact.  </p><p>And yet…</p><p>If she had been sent to get under his skin, and he let her pass by, the next asset sent could be more skilled, more capable of snaring him. No… He would let this play out, he needed to know who was pulling the strings here, and how close they were to discovering his plans.</p><p>He was willing to give Andruil a few more days to make the next move, before he stepped in to rattle the trap again. <br/>____<br/>An’da had been tasked with delivering a set of healing draughts to Sylaise’s healer, who was apparently running low on a simple painkiller that did not grow in their lands. </p><p>She was thrilled with a chance to explore a new part of the castle grounds. Sylaise’s grove, if it could be called that, was on the far side of the grounds from Anduil’s. She’d had to cut through the main palace at the center. Using servants entrances and hallways of course. No more getting lost for her!</p><p>Sylaise’s domain was, as was to be expected, incredibly welcoming. White birch grew tall and slender around the softly lit pathways. Spiraling ramps leading up to elegantly curving rooms made of a milky white glass or crystal webbed through with gold and copper, making them appear as though they were aflame. Riots of flowers and beautiful vining plants poured forth from every window and the air smelled fragrant with all the blooms. </p><p>An’da was quickly and efficiently directed to a kind woman with raven black hair and piercing cerulean eyes. The woman was a genius with healing balms and tonics. An’da wasted no time in asking for parchment and a quill and lost several hours gathering notes and getting lost in the most interesting discussion of herblore. Before she knew it half of the morning had passed.</p><p>Happy with her new found knowledge and clutching her stack of notes to her chest she bid the healer good-bye and began the return trek. </p><p>She tried to remain focused on the path, and she’d been very successful as far as reaching the main palace. She’d ducked into a servant's entrance. If she remembered correctly, this hallway should lead her straight to where she needed to be. She decided it wouldn’t hurt anything to read over her notes as she went. She was fully capable of walking in a straight line while reading. She wanted to commit these new formulae to memory. </p><p>She had gotten through a page and a half before she ran into a wall, or what felt like a wall. All her papers went fluttering across the floor</p><p>“An’da?” the wall spoke with Isenam’s voice and she found herself steadied by his strong hands.</p><p>“Yes, sorry, fine. Ir abelas,” stammering with embarrassment she tried to avoid his eyes, choosing to go after her scattered papers instead. “I’ll just…” She had forgotten he was holding her arms, and accidentally thunked her head into his chest in the process. </p><p>“It’s fine, da’ladarelan.” He reassured her, finally releasing her arms. He tipped her face up towards his and ran a hand gently over her forehead, “Are you okay?”</p><p>She met his eyes then, they were a warm mahogany color and twinkling with mirth. Relieved at his good humour at being essentially head-butted, she returned his smile.</p><p>“I feel-” she had been about to say she felt like such an idiot, but the words died on her tongue as she spied the wolf behind Isenam, striding towards them, his long legs eating up the space between them, and an intense sort of glare to his eyes. ‘When isn’t he intense?’ she thought to herself. </p><p>Following her gaze Isenam spun, quickly releasing her and bowing deeply. An’da mimicked his posture and found herself staring at her papers as they swirled up off the floor and into a neat pile in Solas’ waiting hand. </p><p>He inclined his head towards Isnam, “You may be about your business. I’ve come to speak with the healer.” Isenam wasted no time in turning to go.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Serranasan ma - formal thank you<br/>da’ladarelan - little healer</p><p>credit for all elvhen goes to fenxshiral (who is awesome!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Hallways</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Solas interrupts Isenam and really misunderstands An'da's hesitation.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had been a number of days and there was still no sign of the healer. His agent had informed him that she had been sent to Sylaise’s grove on an errand. It was the perfect time to intercept her and make sure he was seen doing so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had entered the main palace and stationed himself in the most frequently used servants’ passageway. Wrapping shadow and light about himself he remained hidden from casual observers as he watched the comings and goings of Mythal’s staff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had known he would find her here. He had predicted the timing well. He wasn’t even particularly surprised to find her reading while walking. Though the sight did bring a smile to his eyes. She was as intent on finding new knowledge as he was. What he didn’t expect was to see Mythal’s tall servant lurking down a side passage, waiting to intercept her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The younger elf, the one he had run off on their last meeting, was hidden just past the edge of an adjoining hallway, his head darting out down the main passage every now and again. Solas had been curious as to the reason for the man’s furtive glances, until he’d seen An’da approaching and the young man appeared to steel himself for something. He continued to peer out into the hallway, his eyes trained on An’da as she approached oblivious to his scrutiny. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Solas watched as the young man stepped out in front of An’da, giving her no time to react, forcing her to run headlong into him. In the apparently ‘unexpected’ meeting the towering young man took it upon himself to ‘steady’ her. A feeble excuse to touch her, seeing as he’d engineered the meeting to begin with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Solas considered keeping to his shrouded doorway, In truth it would be best, perhaps the young man would give something away, reveal something that would tell Solas who he was working for and what their motives were. He watched as the flustered healer tried to pick up her things, tried to avoid the young man’s gaze, just as she had with him. When the young man tilted her face to his and ran a soft hand across her brow, ostensibly to ‘check’ if she was okay, Solas let the magic obscuring his presence fade away. He’d seen enough. If the man was here to flirt he could do it another time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He saw the moment An’da recognized him, her eyes widening in recognition, which of course alerted her companion. He spared the barest of thoughts for the young man, dismissing him a few words. He would have to warn her that he wasn’t to be trusted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the younger man was out of earshot, Solas continued, “Please, be at your ease.” He knew she had decades of training in appearing meek and subservient that wouldn’t be overcome in a year, let alone the little more than a month that they had known each other. He held out her papers and she gratefully clutched them to her chest, her cheeks pinkened as she hastily folded them and put them in the bag at her side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-” she barely got a sound out before he spoke. He didn’t think he could handle another apology.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you’re about to apologize, there is no reason.” He interrupted her, his words clipped and businesslike. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> sought you out. I have need of your services. Please, walk with me.” He turned and strolled away without another word, leading her through a door into one of the main hallways, all marble and gold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt conspicuously wrong in this hallway, in her leather leggings and homespun tunic. Even her favorite shawl was too rough for this place. Her companion however... He belonged here. The fabric on his robes gathering the light and seeming to flow like water, his long chestnut hair smooth, thick and straight the toggles and beads in his braids all gold and silver. Where was he leading her? And what had he wanted so badly that he had ventured into the servants hallway?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How can I help you?” she asked, hoping for a quick answer so she could escape the unfamiliar feeling that grew in her whenever he was near. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have business in the city; and I need someone with training in medicinal herbs to accompany me.” It was then that she realized that he was indeed leading them away from her grove and towards where the main gates would lead out into the city. “An escape from Andruil could har...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stopped dead in her tracks, her feet refusing to move. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I swear to you that I will not attempt to escape Andruil’s service’</span>
  </em>
  <span> the vow that she’d given to Ishanmis echoed through her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t,” she whispered, almost to herself. She wanted to, she really wanted to see the city. She had never been to the heart of Arlathan before, despite having lived on it’s edges for so long. Her students were out there, </span>
  <em>
    <span>her home</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she was just a few eluvians away… And suddenly with all her heart she wanted to take another step out that door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she’d made a vow to Ishanmis not to escape and this would break it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was breaking the </span>
  <em>
    <span>letter</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the law and not the </span>
  <em>
    <span>spirit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Despite how much she reminded herself that she’d be returning, her feet stubbornly refused to move. She felt the oath holding her in place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why had the wolf used </span>
  <em>
    <span>those</span>
  </em>
  <span> words? Why had Ishanmis been so literal in laying his oath? Curse them both!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solas stopped and turned back at her words, she was frozen in the hallway behind him, staring almost wistfully at the wide doors ahead of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What had he said? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had heard from his agent that An’da was feeling trapped in the palace and an escape seemed to be exactly what she needed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d made sure word of it would get back to Andruil so she’d see his interest in her little pet. It had seemed the perfect plan at the time. He could rattle the trap, let himself appear more ‘caught’ in whatever web the huntress was weaving. And if that happened to coincide with giving An’da a bit of freedom for the day… Well, so much the better.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could see the thoughts warring in her, but he didn’t understand what was causing such an intense reaction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps she simply needed encouragement. Closing the distance between them he took her hands in his, they were soft and warm, and seemed to fit almost perfectly in his own. “It is only for the day, and I can think of no better company for this errand.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-” her voice was tremulous, “I would love to see the city, really,” he could see the truth of it in her eyes, the longing. “But I cannot,” and she cast her eyes at the marble floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Curse the huntress who’d cowed her so! He’d had enough of this, enough of her hiding her face, enough of her eyes on the ground, enough of her not doing what she wanted! He took her face in his hands intending to lift her eyes and tell her she was getting her wish, Andruil be damned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was then that he realized his error. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had gotten too close, her skin under his palms was uncommonly smooth, her smell was all around him, a mixture of elfroot, dawn lotus, and something that was just her, and he’d been pulled in. He lost what he’d been about to say and all he could think of was just how soft her lips would be under his own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt himself pulled in, until they were less than a breath away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve taken an oath,” she squeaked out, cringing as though she feared his reaction. Her words combined with her flinch may as well have been a slap across the face, for how quickly it cooled the haze in his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Letting her go instantly, he backed away and turned from her, trying to regain his control. He cursed himself for a fool.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course she’d been terrified about going with him. After Andruil’s letter inviting him to ‘take’ whatever ‘pleasures’ he’d like, and his performance in her bower the last time they met; she must think he intended to take her mistress up on the offer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was to be bonded. She had a lover. She had a lover she cared enough for to defy her mistress and himself. One she cared enough for to risk whatever punishment would come with that defiance. He would not cheapen that, or her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ir abelas,” he said, returning to her once he’d schooled his expression, though his thoughts were significantly more turbulent. “I would not see you forsworn. You have my word.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She visibly relaxed, the tension leaving her in a wave, “Tel abelas,” she replied softly, “you could not have known.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he had. That was the worst of it. He had, and it hadn’t stopped him. In that moment with her lips mere breaths from his own, he hadn’t cared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come,” he said. “I will walk you back to your grove.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andruil would have to find some other bait to swing his way. He would no longer play this game.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chance Encounters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An accidental encounter with Andruil leads to a change in plans.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Solas was angry. His face was placid, betraying hardly any emotion. But she could see the muscle working in his jaw as his long legs ate up the distance, leading her from hallway to hallway. The ire practically rolled off him in waves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If his anger was directed at her, she would just have to accept the consequences. She didn’t think they’d be too dire. She’d come to trust that he wasn’t like Andruil, at least not in the way he treated his servants. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wondered about the reasons for his anger. Maybe it wasn’t that she wouldn’t go into the city. Maybe it was it that she had prevented a kiss, or maybe that he almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> kissed her. It might be embarrassing for him to have been so close with a servant in a public hallway. That did seem the most likely culprit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why did he keep doing that, anyway? She was no pleasure slave, that much would be obvious to anyone who so much as glanced her way. She wasn’t skilled in any seductive arts, or any arts for that matter.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regardless of the cause for his anger, he’d been stalking silently by her side, stewing over something. If she had known how to get back to her grove from the hallway they’d been in, she would have left him to his thoughts, but she really did need his directions to get back. She’d become turned around shortly after leading the servants’ hallways. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ir abelas,” she ventured quietly. Whatever was bothering him had started when she’d interrupted before. She hoped an apology would smooth away some of his ire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, ladarelan. Tel abelas, the fault is mine.” And now he was apologizing to her. Again. And for what? What had he done, other than offer a very tempting escape into the city. She tried to avoid thinking about the other very tempting thing he’d offered just a few moments ago, as they continued down the hallway. She wasn’t sure she was succeeding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All thoughts of offers, tempting or otherwise, were driven from her mind in the next moment, as Andruil and Ghilan’nain rounded a corner ahead of them. There was no chance they had not been seen. An’da wanted to melt through the marble floors but knew there was no chance of that happening. They were practically upon the couple now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Solas, my dear!” Ghilan’nain greeted the wolf, the fondness evident in her voice as she wrapped him in a warm embrace. “What a pleasure.” An’da couldn’t help but notice how his face lit up at the sight of her. Maybe there was some credence to the rumours about their relationship before her marriage to Andruil.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and you’ve brought Felasil,” the huntress was significantly less welcoming, her disdain for the healer evident in her tone of voice and the tilt of her head. “What a treat this must be for her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da watched through downcast eyes as his lips thinned and his brow furrowed, now was maybe not the time for Andruil to be prodding him. An’da didn’t think her warning would be appreciated by either party. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Solas acknowledged the halla first. “Ghilan’nain, a pleasure as always,” then he gave a curt nod to Andruil, “Huntress. I regret that I cannot stay to chat. There are errands I must see to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and what errands are those?” Andruil asked, her interest had a keen edge to it that An’da didn’t like. Something itched at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t seem to grab hold of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One of my people was recently swindled by a local potion dealer. I agreed that it should be dealt with </span>
  <em>
    <span>personally</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” The predatory gleam to his eye sent a shiver down her spine. She wasn’t certain she wanted to know how he ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>dealt with’</span>
  </em>
  <span> people who deceived him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should take Felasil with you, ma falon!” Ghilan’nain practically gushed. An’da had helped her favorite halla through a breached birth years ago, and the woman had thought her a miracle worker ever since. “She really is brilliant, I bet she could mix up the concoction on her own if we got her a sample.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure she has duties in her own grove that need attending to,” Solas replied. Obviously he was intent on being rid of her. After all their close calls, she could understand why. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andruil grimaced at the gushing praise of her wife but grudgingly added, “It is true, Felasil has a knack for those things. If she is not useful enough to help on your errand, perhaps she needs more </span>
  <em>
    <span>training</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be kind, vhenan,” Ghilan’nain slapped her wife gently on the arm, “If Felasil were not suited why did you bring her to this gathering? I’m sure she’s more than capable of whatever task ma falon has ahead of him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da didn’t like where this was going. The way Andruil had said training had unnerved her and she felt a shaking begin in her hands as flashes of her previous treatment ran through her mind. If he didn’t take her with him now, would she be back on the floor in Andruil’s suites gasping for breath between bouts of pain? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If he did take her with, and it was ordered by her mistress, then no oath was broken, she would escape punishment, and she could see the city as she wished. She strongly hoped for any outcome that would let her avoid ‘training’ at the hands of Andruil. But, it was all academic anyhow, she knew she wouldn’t have a say in the matter. She clasped her trembling hands tightly together and risked a glance at the wolf. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes were on her tightly clenched hands as that same tic moved in his jaw again. Had he seen the shaking? She hoped not. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he smoothly leveled Andruil with a cold gaze, “She is skilled at many things, I’m sure. I simply did not want to deprive you of her skills.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Think nothing of it, wolf,” she demurred, then she turned to address An’da. “Felasil, you are hereby assigned to accompany the wolf. See to it that his tasks succeed. You know what will happen if you do not.” Andruil gave her the slightest and least sincere grin she had ever seen. It silently confirmed everything An’da had feared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ducking her head in bow she replied, “Yes, mistress.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are too kind, Andruil,” Solas practically sneered beneath his thin veil of civility. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was very clear to An’da that he had no desire to spend any more time in her presence than absolutely necessary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>_____ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ghilan’nain had insisted that she and Andruil accompany them back towards the entrance. The halla said she wanted more time to talk with her dear fen falon, and Andruil had not openly objected, only offered a smile that appeared closer to a grimace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da had taken up a position behind the three of them as was only proper, her head bowed as she silently followed. She didn’t mind trailing after them, it gave her a chance to collect her wits, and to hopefully escape notice for a few brief moments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ghilan’nain was stunning, tall and lean, her pure white gown held to her shoulders by golden chains that spanned across her bare back. She wore a golden, stylized head piece designed to look like halla horns, that swept her hair back from her face letting it’s cloud soft length fall straight down her back in a wash of snow white.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beside her, Andruil, even in her most decorative and impractical armor, appeared </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> ordinary. But it was only the comparison that overshadowed her. The huntress was tall and lean, her russet hair pulled back in a similar headpiece, only this one was of silver and branched through her thick curls, ostensibly holding it back for better aiming and protection. Though An’da questioned what was practical about something that took that long to properly put on. Truthfully the way she stalked, her silver greaves glinting, her smooth tanned arms showcasing her strength, she too would turn any head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the halla’s other side was Solas. He moved with a fluid grace, his chestnut hair flowed down his back, the golden and silver toggles woven into a few dark braids amidst the rest, the shaved sides letting his ears point proudly out. His dark robes flowed off his broad shoulders as he walked, belted at his trim waist and seeming to ripple like water as they caught the light. She wanted to run her fingers over the slate fabric and see if it was as smooth as it appeared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The three of them made quite the group, exceptional in every respect, practically glowing with grace, beauty, power, and danger. She wanted to disappear into one of the tapestries as they passed. Maybe jump into one of the giant decorative vases along the hall. Anything to hide her marked face, short stature, messy braided bun, and roughspun tunic. Even her favorite shawl was drab here amongst the gilded halls of the Evanuris. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time they’d reached the main entrance, An’da was feeling particularly dim, drab, and out of place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>______</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had genuinely enjoyed his conversation with Ghilan’nain as they found their way back towards the main entrance. He had missed their long talks since she had taken Andruil as a wife. He deeply wished the huntress was less suspicious, less prone to jealousy, less territorial. Perhaps then he might see his friend more. But there was nothing to be done about it at the moment. Ghilan’nain seemed happy with her choice, so he would leave her to it. “Well, ma falon, It appears that here we part ways.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come to my grove, ma fen falon. Anytime, I would be happy to welcome you,” she replied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will, and soon. I miss our discussions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andruil gave a weak smile at this, but said nothing, merely inclining her head towards him, “Wolf,” then her eyes strayed to An’da who had been following them at a distance, and was only now catching up. The huntress’ eyes sparked with a cold gleam then, and she directed a sly smile at him, “I hope you </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoy</span>
  </em>
  <span> my gift.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huntress,” he endeavoured to keep the chill from his voice, he didn’t want to give away his awareness of her plotting, wouldn’t want An’da to suffer for it. Judging by the cast of her eyes and the slump of her shoulders, the healer was already suffering enough. Had she heard the implied meaning in ‘enjoyed’? She must be troubled at the thought of having to betray her beloved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would clear that up the moment they were alone. Until then, he would continue to appear to dangle on the huntress’ line. She had overplayed her hand in the hallway. It had been obvious how desperate she was to put the healer in his path. Any doubt he had about Andruil’s intentions had been erased in that moment.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The couple turned and retreated down one of the many other hallways already absorbed in their own conversation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turning to An’da he went to hold out a hand, then thinking better of it, he laced his fingers together behind his back. Perhaps it was best if he kept his hands to himself where she was concerned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She joined him, pausing near his side, just a step back, eyes still cast at the floor. He stifled a curse, hating the way it was trained into her and knowing there was little he could do to change things for her in any meaningful way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d been given no choice in coming with him and even if she had been; she would have seen her choices as ‘training’ by which the huntress had obviously meant more pain, or forswearing her vows to her love. He could only imagine the thoughts weighing on her as they made their way down the steps to the main doors.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Speaking over his shoulder he made it as clear to her as he could, “You need have no fear of me. I will respect your vows.” He hoped it was enough to soothe her fears. He hoped she would trust him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knowing she would follow, he stepped through doors and out into the city. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ladarelan = healer<br/>ma falon = my friend<br/>ma fen falon = my wolf friend<br/>ir abelas = I'm sorry<br/>tel abelas = don't be sorry.<br/>Felasil = fool<br/>vhenan = heart/home or the person who is your heart and your home.</p><p>Thanks again to Fenxshiral for wonderful elvhen language resources.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. The Nutritional Benefits of Chocolate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An'da finally gets to see Arlathan! She has chocolate, Solas almost loses his cool.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The idea of the elaborately magically enhanced Elvhen comes in large part from the 'Looking Glass' AU by Feynite. If I knew how to link things here I would send you to that awesome story! </p><p>Also, sorry for the delay... life happened. </p><p>Hope you enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Arlathan was </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing! </span>
  </em>
  <span>She’d never seen so many people and spirits in one place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andruil’s estates had been full of hunters, serving staff, and a small smattering of spirits. The town she’d taken form in had been more sizable in population, but this was incredible! Why had she never ventured this far in?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inside the palace was a series of interconnected groves, forests, if you will. Staying mainly in Andruil’s grove had her feeling much like she was near the wilds around the huntress’ estate. The city outside couldn’t be seen from the interior, so she’d been thoroughly isolated from even the sounds of the city outside the walls.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once she’d taken that first step outside she’d been overawed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Towering crystal spires sporting golden domes, walkways of glass that lit with a soft glow under the feet of the elvhen traversing them. There were pathways at all levels of the city. Shops, taverns, inns, blacksmiths, cobblers, seamstresses, booksellers, vendors of every shape and size were spread out as far as the eye could see, shops nestled amidst the leaves of towering pines, homes that seemed to sway, wrapped in weeping willow boughs. Temples rose in towers or simply floated above the rest of the city. Thousands of crystal platforms with arching glass walkways between them all, offering the strangest and most amazing of wares. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Solas had waited patiently for her to get her bearings when she stopped dead in her tracks at her first sight of it. The main doors of the palace led down a wide flight of golden steps to a warded gate, guarded by many sentinels. From there they could walk the widest avenue down to the center of the city, or branch off on any of the seemingly endless pathways. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she’d finally torn her eyes away from the overwhelming wonder before her she glanced quickly at him only to find him staring, but not at the city. He was staring at her. A small private smile teased at the corners of his mouth, his eyes crinkling at the corners with mirth. “You have not been in the city before.” It wasn’t a question. The wide-eyed wonder on her face must be apparent. “Do you like it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like it? It’s… I…” she couldn’t find the words to accurately describe all the thoughts tumbling over each other in her mind. He patiently waited while she floundered about, finally settling on, “It’s overwhelming.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A soft chuckle escaped him at that, “That is not quite an answer. Perhaps I will ask again when our errand is complete.” He made a sweeping gesture inviting her down the stairs, “You may be able to better answer the question if you leave the steps of the palace.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughed at herself then, before quickly joining him at the base of the stairs, a new spring in her step.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He led her to a side gate, that she hadn’t noticed in her gaping, and into one of the smaller alleyways. It was just as full of variety, color, and life as her glimpse from the steps had suggested it would be. But it was more cramped than the wider avenue out the main gates. She smelled spices and fruits, herbs, freshly baked breads, and flowers wafting from various windows as she passed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cacophony of so many elvhen was overwhelming. They were speaking, bartering, and arguing (a few were even singing). All clamoring to be heard at once.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps the smaller alleyway had been the best choice. She couldn’t imagine how she would have reacted to the main avenue.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She gawked openly at the brightly colored, ornate dress of the many passersby. There were elvhen who had enhanced their appearances with all manner of magics. She passed a woman with Sylaise’s vallaslin who had scarlet red hair that flowed down her back into long red feathers tipped with what looked like golden flames. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another had smooth blue skin, that appeared almost wet, and flowing from his shoulders he had two tentacle-like appendages that he used to gesture emphatically while he bartered with a fruit vendor. She couldn’t tell if they were enchanted parts of his clothing or creative, magical additions to his body. They passed too quickly for her to get a better view. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was every manner of ornamentation here, many she would never have dreamed of attempting. Amidst the wandering, elaborate elvhen, were the spirits, passing through or walking alongside friends, feeding off of the emotions and intent of the crowds. If she had a million years she’d never accurately catalogue the wonders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she stared in awe at sight after sight, she found herself jostled from one place to the next by the passing crowds. Just as she’d reorient herself, she’d see another impossible thing, spin around trying to get a better view and end up in the middle of a pathway, where someone else would shoulder her out of the way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Poor Solas had to keep coming back for her as she completely failed to keep pace with him in her stupefied wonder. She could only imagine the frustration she was causing him. She supposed, it didn’t help that she was shorter than most here, and amongst the wild and varied fashions she was practically invisible, even with her bright hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a time, the wolf slowed his pace and took her hand in his, pulling her close to his side. She would be lying if she said the heat in her cheeks was from anything other than his proximity; but she had to admit it was a more efficient way to travel. The crowds seemed to disperse in front of him. Parting like water before a ship’s bow. Once she’d adjusted to his closeness, she was free to take in the varied sights of the streets around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d truly intended to keep his hands to himself. He’d intended to approach the outing in a serious and business-like manner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Andruil had implied that An’da would suffer if she didn’t go with him he had accepted that he would take her on his errand. He had decided they would go quickly. They’d be as efficient as possible and he would return her to her grove before she had to worry overlong about his intentions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His plans had lasted all of a minute.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she’d stepped out the doors, she had frozen. He made it down the steps before realizing he was unexpectedly alone, and had turned back to find her gazing raptly at the city before her. The sheer wonder and amazement on her face had stopped him in his tracks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had found himself staring at her much the same way she stared at the city. The sight of her sparkling eyes and awed smile had been so starkly contrasted against the fearful, timid expression she usually wore. Keeping that look of delight on her face, became his unexpected new focus. He had immediately begun a list of all the places he could show her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What was to be a short efficient jaunt to an herbalist, less than a mile from the palace, began to turn into an expedition. He considered and cast aside other places he could take her. What did she like?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d had to give up on the library. He feared she’d never leave, and perhaps she’d try to abscond with half their inventory. Perhaps he could schedule a second outing with her to explore the library. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She did seem to enjoy sweet things...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong </span>
  </em>
  <span>with him? One wide-eyed wondering glance and she had him casting aside his plans in the hopes that he could keep a smile on her face? This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> what he did, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>how he behaved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His plans to keep his hands to himself lasted only marginally longer than his plans for a short outing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he had almost lost her 3 times in the first ten minutes, and turned in time to see her jostled by one passerby into another, he decided (for her own safety, of course) that it was necessary to keep a hold of her. It was just a hand, there was no need to make anything of it. Nevermind that he was acutely aware every time her arm brushed by his, or how perfectly her hand fit in his grasp. That was irrelevant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some time later, Solas led her up a winding crystal ramp onto a platform built in the flowering crown of a giant magnolia tree. The din below faded away as they passed through some sort of magical sound barrier. Up here there was a long counter curving along one edge of the platform and many shelves covered in pastries, chocolates, and other sweet things. The ceiling was a curved dome of magnolia blooms sweetening the air with their fragrance. It was like finding oneself inside a cloud of flowers, filled with the sweetest of treats. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Solas, it’s so lovely!” she whispered, not wanting to disturb the patrons, and afraid if she spoke too loud some of the magic would be lost. He responded with a gentle squeeze of her hand. She noted he didn’t let go, and she found she was pleased at the choice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought you might appreciate it,” he said his voice softer than she was used to. He smiled then, a gentleness about his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. “It is after midday, I didn’t think we should go without some nourishment. Our errands may take us into the evening.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, ummm…. Thank you,” she stammered, moving off towards one of the shelves. Her mind was reeling, the wonders just outside this quiet cloud were still spinning about in her head. This place was all quiet, sweet smells, delicious sights, and peace. The contrast was stark and she felt her mind beginning to calm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was then that she realized a few problems with his previous statement. First, he had only mentioned one errand before, now the errands were plural? She completely ignored that he considered chocolates and pastries ‘nourishment’. Instead, she chose to focus on the more concerning issue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The evening? Do you really think it will take that long?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you have pressing concerns in the palace?” He asked, releasing her hand as he moved behind her to examine the offerings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no… It’s just I didn’t think…” she knew that the grove would be fine without her, but what if there was an emergency and she wasn’t present? Roga and Felassan were capable of basic first aid, and were able to open the bower should they need to, but what if one of </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> were hurt and the other couldn’t be found quick enough, or...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Why are you trying to get back so quickly? Didn’t you </span>
  </em>
  <span>want</span>
  <em>
    <span> to see the city? Stop sabotaging, An’da!’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>she told herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An’da tried another approach. “You said you had to visit an apothecary? Will it take that long to…</span>
  <em>
    <span>talk</span>
  </em>
  <span> with him?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It could,” she noted how his jaw tensed at the mention of his errand. Perhaps he was avoiding it? Maybe he didn’t relish the idea of what he had to do. She certainly didn’t relish the idea of being part of it. Maybe that was his reason for this diversion, something sweet to delay the inevitable. He continued, “Given your reaction to the city, I had thought you’d welcome more time here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh I will! I mean I would,” she practically squeaked as she said it. She hadn’t wanted to seem too eager, but it was clearly too late for that. More time exploring was </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what she wanted. “but I don’t want to delay you. My mistress…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cut her off with a curt raise of his hand and a growled “No more,” Decades of servitude had her cutting off all motion, all words instantly. She bowed her head and awaited instructions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed, shaking his head. “No, An’da,” the growling command in his voice was gone, replaced by a resigned sadness, “look at me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She raised her eyes slowly to find him looking at her, his blue-grey eyes locked onto hers &amp; she remembered his words in her bower, could practically hear his voice in her mind, ‘you need never avert your eyes in my presence’. She took a breath and straightened entirely, squaring her shoulders and looking him squarely in the eye. If her hands trembled a bit, at least he couldn’t see them with his eyes on her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tiniest of upward twitches at one corner of his mouth was all the reaction he gave, but she felt a wave of warmth and pride emanate from him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No more mention of your mistress. I’ve had enough of her today. She said your task was to see that mine succeed. My main task at the moment is to see that you enjoy what the city has to offer. After that, we will worry about any other errands that present themselves.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay…” she turned back to the shelves, to hide her embarrassed blushing. He was focused on </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>enjoyment?  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t precisely a first for her. Felassan, Rogasha, Ishanmis, they often thought of her and brought kind surprises to her, just as she did for them, but this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was practically a god amongst their people. She wasn’t certain she knew how to respond, but his words had put a flutter in her stomach that she didn’t know how to deal with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luckily she was saved by the polite attentions of the shopkeeper. “My Lord,” he said, bowing deeply before them. “It is an honor to host you and your guest.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As it is an honor to sample your wares,” Solas replied before turning to her, “What would you like?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as she had been with the city, she was overwhelmed by the variety of decadent looking options in front of her. She scanned the glass case below the shopkeeper’s hands. Hundreds of little chocolates lined the shelf. Each was unique, a riot of colors, shapes, and textures ran across the various plates and platters, and that was only one shelf. There were shelves throughout the space, some with many levels sporting cakes, cupcakes, pastries, tarts, even a few savory breads piled in baskets on a shelf near the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t certain how long she’d spent examining the confectioncs in front of her before a small chocolate caught her eye. It was glossy and round with a drizzle of a lighter chocolate running through its shell. If chocolate could be said to call out to someone, she was sure this one was speaking to her. She pointed with certainty at it, “That one. I’d like to try that one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d apparently spent too long in choosing, as Solas had moved off with the shopkeeper and they were filling a small box with odds and ends across the room. The shop-assistant smiled at her pleasantly as she handed her the chocolate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taking the small confection she popped it into her mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The creamy chocolate practically melted the instant it hit her tongue, flooding her mouth with its sweet taste, as an unexpected spice warmed her from head to toe. Her eyes fluttered shut. It was heaven. If she never tasted another thing, she would die happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would have laughed at the intensity with which she faced down the selection of chocolates. Her brow furrowing and her gaze raking over the confections as if she were taking a mental inventory of their various properties. Perhaps she feared a test later? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would have laughed, too, if her absent minded nibbling at her lip hadn’t drawn his eyes like a magnet, pulling him towards her. Why was he so fascinated with her mouth? A very </span>
  <em>
    <span>unhelpful</span>
  </em>
  <span> part of his mind felt the need to answer the question, and it was being quite thorough; analysing the curve of her lower lip, its pillowy softness, the precise shade of it, her small… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cursed himself for a lecher and distracted himself with choosing his own confections. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was the first place he’d thought of sharing with An’da when he’d seen her excitement on the palace steps. Her interest in the frilly cakes had been the inspiration for this stop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nellas, the chocolatier, was familiar with him and often delivered to his grove in the palace when he was in Arlathan. The man made magic with his candies, and his husband was an equally skilled baker. Their shop was, to his mind, the best eatery in the city, despite the fact that it only sold sweets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He directed the shopkeeper to package up some of his favorite things, and a few he thought she’d enjoy later, while she made her decision. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she finally made a choice, it was only a single chocolate. He realized then, that he should have specified. She was a servant, of course she’d assumed she could choose only one.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d been about to inform her of the fact, turning away from his old friend just in time to see her eyes flutter shut, a decadent moan coming from her throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A moan, that put his every sense on high alert, heat rushing across his skin. The unhelpful part of his brain returned, offering up images of all the ways </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> could make her moan. What would it take? A simple brush of the lips, a soft bite? Would she taste of chocolate? How many steps before she could be in his arms? What would she feel like pressed up against him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the next instant her eyes fluttered open, her silver-jade eyes heavy lidded as she said, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was amazing,” to the assistant, in a throaty voice he’d not heard from her before. A voice that made him imagine her wrapped in his arms after a night of…</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stop it!</span>
  </em>
  <span> He chastised himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It was just a thrice cursed chocolate. She is taken, and happily so. Buy some damned bread and leave. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was going to the void.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You could choose more than one, you know,” was all he said aloud. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Books and Poems</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An'da and Solas continue to explore Arlathan. He's figuring out that she's not a spy (or at least she doesn't know she is. Then some sappy dorks quote poetry.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Who gets two chapters? You do! Because they were too long to stick together.</p><p>I did not write the poetry... I did read hours and hours of poetry to find lines to use, but I did not write it. All authors are attributed in the notes at the end, as well as the little bit of Elvhen (again courtesy of Fenxshiral).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>More than one?! It seemed too good to be true. His voice had been unusually gruff, and he had been glowering when he’d said it, but she wasn’t going to argue with him. She chose five in the end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One for Felassan (a salted caramel for her salty brother) one for Rogasha (a deep dark chocolate with hints of rose), one for Sah’rel (it might help her feel more welcome), one for Silvun (it never hurt to have the gruff cook on her good side), and one more for herself (to be saved for a rainy day).</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she’d finished with her selections and had placed the small box at the bottom of her bag, she’d had to go in search of her companion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She found him behind a shelf of honey-sweetened fruit breads looking out at the city through the clouds of magnolia that served both as walls and window. He looked unusually pensive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My lord, I’ve finished. My apologies for taking...” he cut her off, without turning from his perusal of the city beyond.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No apologies. Sathan.” he said with a tired sigh. “And I am not your lord, Solas will do.” Then he turned to her, “Did you make your selections?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, thank you. Their chocolates are a wonder! I’m sure I’ve never tasted anything as good.” Then she realized how traitorous she had been, “Don’t you dare tell Silvun I said that! Not a word!” She tried to fix him with the glare that she often used on the hunters in the grove. It may not have had the desired effect, but she was pleased to see it made the wolf smile. The melancholy look left his eyes and whatever worry he had been pondering seemed left at the window as they made their way back to the street below. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what happened to all of the patrons?” she asked as they made their way through the streets of Arlathan once more, her hand safely tucked into his. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The patrons?” he asked, only part of his attention on her question. He appeared to be steering them to some new place in the city, and judging by his furrowed brow, he wasn’t entirely certain the best path to take.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The patrons of the shop we were just in. There were many when we entered, and none when we left. It’s like they vanished shortly after we entered.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gestured at the crowds around them, parting as they walked. Like there was an invisible bubble around him. “The people may say they love their leaders, but they do what they can to give us a wide berth, lest they garner our attention or our wrath.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But of course they had left, she realized. An Evanuris had entered. She had forgotten who he was again. No matter how much the people loved their gods, no one really wanted their attention if they could help it. Gods were capricious things. It would be best for her to remember that, before she became too attached to the warmth of his hand wrapped around her own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have nothing to fear,” it was almost as if he’d read her thoughts. Of course, he’d probably just read her face. Once again she cursed her transparency. He was solemn again, and whatever had his attention earlier no longer did. He fixed her with the full force of his blue-grey eyes. The earnestness of his focus made her stomach flutter, as he responded  “No harm will come to you by my side.” It felt strangely like a promise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tried to make light of it, “Of course not. If book thievery gets me a trip to a chocolate shop, imagine what more serious crimes might garner me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughed then, a full throated thing, that had her blushing and staring. He was truly striking. She found herself stepping closer before she realized she’d done it. He quickly squeezed her hand and returned them to their path. “I suppose I should discourage you from a life of crime, though I am curious as to what brought on your attempt at thievery. You don’t strike me as someone who takes unnecessary risks, and the reading material was not something that would fetch a price were you to try and sell it. If anything it was uncommonly dry. Why did you take the chance?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Well, it’s what I do…” she trailed off, realizing (not for the first time) that it was no longer her occupation. “or what I did, I guess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steal? You were a thief?” his brow furrowed, his head swiveling to take her in more clearly. She felt herself pinned in place by his glare. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! No…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Void take me! What does he think of me?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Teach! I used to teach. Before…” She waved vaguely towards her face and the vallaslin clearly marking her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You taught?” And just like that, his face smoothed over and they continued on their path. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>The capriciousness of gods is no joke!’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought to herself. Breathing a sigh of relief she remembered her students, their clearing behind the market, and her little room in the old oak. The images filling her with warmth as she thought of all of their little faces. She hadn’t realized she’d trailed off until he prodded her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did you teach?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm…Oh, yes. Well, nothing grand. I just worked with the babies in my village, no one over two decades. We’d gather in a clearing near the market and we’d explore. Science, magic, literature, reading, writing, whatever they were interested in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d just left my Dun Ghi’lan and found a home on the outskirts,” she gestured in what she thought was the direction of her home. Though truly she couldn’t be sure, she’d gotten too turned around in the city. “There were all these little ones around. They were fascinated by so many different things and there was no one with the time or the interest to help them explore. Everyone was too busy. Someone needed to help, so I did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glanced at him as they rounded a new corner, and up a set of cobblestone stairs. This area of the city was less fantastical, but still no less busy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what did you teach these da’len?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, they all had their own interests. Little Shielan loved experiments, anything she could get her hands on. She needed to put things together and take them apart. She’s probably a skilled engineer by now. Mihren was fascinated by animals and would spend hours pouring over anything I could find him about their care. I swear he could train a worm if he put his mind to it. Viera loved stories, so I’d share any books I found with her. She was often off in her own little world, but when she refocused she’d have the most startling observations. Syrillion, well he…” She stopped abruptly as she realized he likely cared nothing for the interest of little elvhen who barely had 5 decades amongst them. Though by now they’d all be grown and gone. It saddened her to think she’d likely never see them again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d only spoken about them once since leaving her home. It had been with Ishanmis, a cold day on the estate. The first time she’d seen the effects of the vallaslin in action. It had shaken her to the core. He’d taken her out to the edges of the estate afterwards and helped her to find some peace. She’d found it by talking about the little ones she loved. He was the only one she had ever trusted completely enough to share that with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d kept them all close to her heart and kept them safe by never speaking their names. If none of the gods knew their names then they couldn’t be harmed because of her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why had she felt so comfortable speaking about them now, with The Wolf of all people?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She needed to talk about something else, before she blabbered on any more. “What about you? What were you looking for in the library?” If he noticed her change of subject, he said nothing of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mythal had recommended a book of poetry, a volume I didn’t have in any of my libraries. She offered to lend me her copy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the mention of poetry she perked up. “Poetry? Who by? Was it Nirasha? I love Nirasha’s works! Everything she’s written practically sings! And Telahn wrote some of the most beautiful love poetry. Did you know he didn’t speak for over three centuries while he worked on a book of odes to his beloved. It’s said she... ” she’d gotten carried away again. “Ir abelas, I suppose it would be polite to let you actually answer.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes met hers and he chuckled again. She found herself looking forward to the warm sound of his subtle laugh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He led her around another corner onto a broader avenue full of various market stalls as he ticked off his answers on his fingers. “Yes,” one finger raised. “It was Doshiel,” a second finger joined. “I did know about Telahn. He was a friend of Mythal. She was a great patron of his work.” having answered all her questions, he showed her his three fingers before continuing. “I didn’t know you were interested in poetry. Have you read anything by Doshiel? He has great insight into elvhen character, especially the spirit-born. I could recommend a volume or two if you’d be interested.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course!” First chocolate, then poetry? Arlathan was wonderful!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>_____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course… Of course she’d been a teacher. Things were beginning to fall into place. Her obvious awe at the library, her interest in that ponderous tome, the lack of children’s things in her home when she’d supposedly had a child of her own. It hadn’t been her son, it had been her student. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even just hearing her speak of the children he could see the love she had for them. She practically glowed with pride as she talked about their loves and their interests. She would have protected any one of them with the same fierceness she showed in the brief moments he glimpsed before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she was spirit born. She wouldn’t have had a dun ghi’lan if she hadn’t been. What kind of spirit had she been? Knowledge? No, she wasn’t dry or pedantic. She was so full of life and excitement she was practically bursting with it. Curiosity? Maybe, but she wasn’t flighty. Exploration? No, she hadn’t travelled, or perhaps she had and he didn’t know. Discovery?  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He suddenly cut off that line of questioning, reminding himself that it didn’t matter. What good would speculating get him? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What did matter, was that if she had a Dun Ghi’lan then he could track her back to her mentor, find out more about where she came from, and who might be using her. He was almost ready to accept that she was nothing more than she said she was. In which case she was in a more dangerous position than she knew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wanted to ask her more, but she seemed to suddenly shy away from the subject. It was like the warm glow of a hearth suddenly doused. He regretted the lack of light, but he wouldn’t push, no matter how much he wanted to see her glowing again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then she’d asked about his reason for being in the library and he’d found she had an interest in poetry as well. Her warmth returned as they discussed the lives and loves of the different poets they’d read over the years. He’d have happily discussed the merits of Nirasha’s lyrical verses contrasted to Telahn’s spare, stark imagery for hours. Anything that brought that joy and openness to her face.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he’d asked her what line she recalled the best, and she quoted, “The waterfall sings, ‘I find my song when I find my freedom.’” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His heart stopped in his chest. Did she know who she was quoting? Did she know how deeply those words were written in him? Just when he’d begun to think her innocent of subterfuge, she chose the lines that had found their way into his heart centuries before he’d encountered her in a forbidden library. Words from a man who helped inspire his work. Had she been prompted or was this truly her? Either way it was disturbing. Someone knew him too well, too deeply, or she was too… He found he couldn’t quite say, the words all seeming to lump together in his throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He found himself responding, quoting back to her from another poet, “‘...but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice? Who says words with my mouth?’”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughed back at him, “You mean to say I speak your thoughts?” He nodded, watching her blush and grin back shyly before her eyes glinted with mischief and she responded, “I am the healer who loves reminding people that they are not alone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not familiar with that one,” he responded, surprised that she could best him in knowledge of the written word. His pride would not let it rest, and before he knew it they were quoting more and more obscure bits of poetry to one another, their conversation being spoken in words written hundreds, if not thousands of years before them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were nearing their next stop, but he found himself slowing, not wanting to end the bright quicksilver conversation that brought such a sparkle to her eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A wide courtyard opened up before them filled with hundreds of stands covered by awnings of various fantastical fabrics, magics, magically grown vines, crystal, glass, and a thousand other things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they entered the open market, the light of the sun was filtered through the hundreds of colors of the awnings, and it flickered as they passed one booth after another. He watched as An’da trailed off in the midst of quoting a line about a willow bough. Her eyes widening in wonder yet again. He was growing more attached to the feeling that face brought out in him; a warmth spreading through his chest. Already he was considering making excuses for other escapes with her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ahead was the woman he’d brought her to meet. He had had a feeling she would love Tuelartha. The ancient healer would love An’da. He had no doubt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though it suddenly occurred to him that he may not have adequately thought through how well </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> would love the two of </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> meeting. Yet another oversight on his part. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she turned her beaming smile to him he found himself willing to overlook it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Elvhen:<br/>Sathan - please<br/>Dun Ghi’lan (literally body teacher, A mentor who helps spirits who have taken bodies to learn how to adjust to them.)</p><p>Poets Are Awesome:<br/>“The waterfall sings, ‘I find my song when I find my freedom.’” ~Rabindranath Tagore<br/>“...but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice? Who says words with my mouth?” ~Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi<br/>“I am the healer who loves reminding people that they are not alone.” ~Juansen Dizon<br/>“I saw the fire which lives in your eyes,” ~Wendell A. Brown (I didn't end up using this one. Solas almost said it... then he chickened out. I found something better for him to use later.)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>An’da Eolasa = place, small, understand (small place of understanding)</p><p>All Elvhen credit to Fenxshiral's translator and Project Elvhen<br/>Any errors in the Elvhen are mine</p></blockquote></div></div>
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